JMRD1: John and Mike and Rose and Donna
by Lilac Reverie
Summary: JMRD Part One: What happened when they didn't make it out of the parallel world in time after Journey's End. Ten/TenB/Rose/Donna, AU
1. Bad Wolf Baying

This is STILL not the promised sequel to _Through the Looking Glass_. Actually, it's a sequel to _Bad Wolf Baying_. carlvs convinced me to add a new chapter: what happened when they discovered that the walls had closed while the catfight was going on. Unfortunately, I couldn't for the life of me make it a comedy, so I'm simply starting a new story. A whole lot of material has popped into my head, though, so I think it might go on for a while.

This first chapter is indeed an exact repeat of _Bad Wolf Baying_, so those who read that one can just skip over it. I included it here so readers who missed it don't have to go searching to figure out what's going on.

Disclaimer: _*checks the lottery numbers*_ Nope, still not mine.

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**Bad Wolf Baying**

On a bright summer day in western Norway, the white sands of Bad Wolf Bay lay sparkling in the sun, soaking up the warmth against the long winter. Flocks of gulls and terns were scrawking about the cliffs, diving down to the water in hopes of catching an afternoon snack, while their nearly-grown young were showing off their new feathered finery to each other.

The only human in sight was a lone man, sitting in an old jeep parked on the sand, halfway to the water's edge, just waiting and watching. He looked like he'd been there for a while. The remains of a packed lunch were scrunched into their paper bag on the floor of the jeep, and the second thermos of coffee was almost empty. His laptop computer lay on the back seat where he'd placed it an hour ago after checking his email for the third time. Now he was just sitting, watching the gulls fight the terns fight the fishes.

Suddenly the peaceful scene was interrupted by a most unexpected noise: an eerie, futuristic _whoosh, whoosh_, coming from up the beach, and a large, wooden blue box began to materialize from nothing. The man sat up and grinned, then climbed out of the jeep and began walking towards it, stretching stiff muscles.

The door of the police box opened, and a pretty blonde walked out, followed by several others. The blonde was already in mid-complaint when she spied the man from the jeep. "Fat lot of good this is – back of beyond. Bloody Norway! I'll have to phone your.... PETE!!!" And she began running to the man, who laughed and scooped her up, twirling her around.

"Oh, good, he got my message!" smiled the Doctor, the last one out the door.

Rose's jaw had dropped when she saw Pete, and now she whirled on the Doctor, hurt comprehension dawning. "But this is the parallel universe!"

"You're back home." He replied. Not unkindly, but not exactly apologetic, either.

Donna spoke up, "And the walls of the world are closing again, now the Reality Bomb never happened. It's a dimensional retroclosure - see, I really get that stuff now!"

Rose shot her a glare, while the second Doctor grinned. She turned back to the Doctor. "No, but I spent all that time trying to find you. I'm not going back now!"

The Doctor stiffened his resolve. "But you've got to. 'Cause we saved the universe at a cost, and the cost, is him. He destroyed the Daleks. He committed genocide. He's too dangerous to be left on his own."

The man in blue narrowed his eyes. He wasn't having any of this "he" stuff, like he wasn't there, or like he was someone entirely different from the Doctor. "You made me!"

The Doctor wasn't backing down, though. "Exactly. You were born in battle. Full of blood and anger and revenge." He turned back to Rose. "Remind you of someone? That's me, when we first met. And you made me better. Now you can do the same for him."

She shook her head, not accepting the challenge. "But he's not you!"

"He needs you. That's very me."

Donna broke in again. "It's better than that, though. Don't you see what he's giving you? Tell her, go on!"

The second Doctor smiled at Donna, then tore his eyes away and looked at Rose, pleading his case. "I look like him. Think like him. Same memories, same thoughts, same everything, except.. I've only got one heart."

"Which means?" asked Rose.

"I'm part human. Specifically, the aging part. I'll grow old, and never regenerate. I've only got one life, Rose Tyler. I could spend it with you.... if you like."

She stared at him, considering, tempted. Then she turned back to the Doctor. "But.. what about you?"

"Oh, I'm all right!" he said, easily. "I've got madam!"

_No, you don't,_ thought the second Doctor. _You know what's going to happen as well as I do. Why are you going through this charade?_

Donna had been speaking: "Human with a Time Lord brain, perfect combination! We can travel the universe forever, best friends! And equals. Just what old skinnyboy needs, an equal!"

Rose turned her glare on Donna full force, disgusted. "Shut. Up. You could _never_ be his equal, not in a million years."

The redhead's jaw dropped, along with everyone else's. Then she shot back, "More of an equal than you, _blondie._"

"Oh, yeah? Who was it that managed to hop realities, not once, but _several_ times, when he said it was impossible? Was that you? Oops! No, it wasn't!"

"Oh, right, you'll do anything to chase after a man, won't you? I saw you with that great big honking cannon you were toting around. Who's compensating for what, now?"

They were inches from each other now, shouting; the other four just gaping, with varying degrees of horror and delight.

"Speaking of compensating, who was it that had to compensate for YOU being such a screw-up that you went and got him KILLED, and created a whole new timeline, that _I_ had to go talk you into fixing again! And wasn't _that_ just a fun time! How many times did I have to contact you, following you all the way up to bloody _LEEDS_ -"

"Oh, right, you had to go do all that, sure! You could make up _anything_ about that time, couldn't you, 'cause nobody remembers it but you! Doesn't that mean it didn't happen, then?"

Rose's eyes got even narrower, and she hissed, "Are you calling me a liar?"

"If the army boot fits, sweets!"

And that's when Rose hauled off and bitchslapped her.

Complete silence reigned on the beach for about ten seconds, as Donna staggered back, jaw dropping, hand to her cheek where Rose's handprint was already showing in bright red. Then all hell broke loose.

Donna slipped ahead of everyone else by a fraction of a second, screeching and lunging forward to shove Rose back into the sand. Rose didn't go down, though; she'd been in a few too many scraps to be caught off-guard. She dug her heels into the sand and shoved back. "Oh, not too Time Lordly now, are you?"

The Doctor broke out of his shocked paralysis and made to get between the women, calling "Hey, whoa , what the -" before finding his way blocked by another arm.

"Why don't you just let them work it out, for once, instead of barging in all superior and arranging everyone's lives for them like you always do, like you _were_ doing a minute ago? Maybe the rest of us don't feel like following your little plan this time." The Doctor stared, shocked, at his twin's snarling face, as the fight swirled on around them. Just how different _was_ he?

Donna had left off shoving, and reached up to grab a handful of Rose's hair, yanking it with all the disgusted rage she'd previously reserved for Nerys. "More than _you,_ Peroxica! I don't know how you managed to go saving the world, spending all that time at the hairdressers getting bleached! Did you really think he'd go for something that obvious, rather than brains?"

Rose grabbed Donna's wrist and yanked her hair out of her grasp, then twisted the arm down and around with a swift movement, ending with it high behind Donna's back. "Brains? What brains? The only brains you've got are the ones you stole from him!" she hissed, and then shoved Donna away again.

Donna screeched again and launched herself at Rose, incoherent. Slapping, punching, pulling hair, the two women went down in a tangle of arms and legs, rolling in the sand. Donna managed to roll on top and pulled herself up, raising her arm high to slap the daylights out of her opponent.

"_Oh no you don't!"_ And another blonde joined the fray, Jackie grabbing Donna's raised arm and yanking her off her daughter in the sand. Rose jumped up and made to grab Donna's other arm, positioning herself for a good swift kick to center.

The Doctor pushed by his twin, then, and got in the middle, trying to stop it. Which, in retrospect, may not have been such a bright idea. _So that's what it's like to be on the receiving end of TWO Tyler slaps in a row,_ he thought giddily, head spinning. The two blondes shoved him back out of the way and turned back to the redhead.

All three women squared off, then, Donna facing the Tylers side by side. Panting hard, they glared at each other, gearing up for a mutual rush.

The three men glanced at each other, and without a word agreed that this had better end now, before major damage was inflicted. Enough was enough. The second Doctor dashed around behind Donna and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back, just as Pete grabbed Jackie and did the same, both men calling out to their captives to "stop, just stop, calm down, let it go."

The Doctor found himself trying to contain an enraged Rose, who continued to struggle for a minute before seeming to realize what she was doing and who was holding her. She dropped her arms to her side, then, and stared at the sand, chest heaving, red-faced with anger, fading quickly to humiliation. The Doctor didn't let go, though, finding that he just didn't want to – but not willing to examine that impulse too closely just then.

Nobody said anything for several minutes, as shock and anger slowly wore off. Finally, the Doctor made himself drop his arms and say, "Well. We've got to get going – this universe is going to be sealing itself off." He couldn't quite manage to meet anyone's eyes as he said it, or make himself move away from Rose.

"Go where?" asked the second Doctor, still lightly holding Donna. He shook his head, disgusted, and repeated aloud his earlier thought. "You know what's about to happen as well as I do. Why don't you just get it over with right now?"

Everyone turned to look at him, then back to the Doctor, confused. "What are you talking about?" asked Donna.

The Doctor had taken a step away from Rose, and dropped his eyes, looking at the sand. He didn't say anything.

"Answer the question!" demanded his twin.

Finally, slowly, the Doctor raised his eyes, and looked... at Donna. His eyes were tragic. She flinched away from his gaze, still bewildered. "What....?"

He spoke so low that the others almost had to strain to hear him over the waves and the seabirds. "There's never been a human Time Lord before. And you know why. If the knowledge of a Time Lord is within your brain, you know why."

Donna began shaking her head, frantically, denying her knowledge. It was Rose who broke the silence. "Because there can't be. A Time Lord mind in a human brain will burn it up. That's why you had to take it from me back then." All animus forgotten, she looked from the Doctor to Donna, horrified on her behalf, heartbroken for what she was about to lose, the only one in the worlds who understood, who'd been there.

"No... No, no, no!" Donna began to moan. She held her hands up to her head, where the incipient headache she'd been aware of for the last hour had been building to nuclear potential while she was distracted by the fight. The human Doctor gathered her tighter, turning her so she faced him. Suddenly, she took a deep breath, and pushed away from him, holding her head high. "No, I'm all right. I'm OK. I'm fine! Nothing wrong with me!"

She whirled away from him to face the Doctor. "I'm FINE. I can handle it! There's nothing wrong with m... m... m..." Her eyes grew round as saucers with fear. She began again, enunciating carefully, fiercely. "There's. Nothing. Wrong. With. MeeeeeeEEEEEEE!" Voice rising to a shriek, her hands flew to her head again, and she sank to her knees in the sand, feeling as though her head were about to literally explode.

The human Doctor lunged to catch her, holding her tight against his chest. He glared at the Doctor. "Well, DO IT, dammit, before her head explodes! I can't take it from her, I'm too human now myself."

The Doctor walked sadly over to them, and sank to his own knees in front of Donna. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

She looked at him, sobbing. "I want to stay. I was gonna be with you forever. Please, don't make me go back."

He shook his head again, heartbroken. A single tear escaped his eye, streaking his face. "Oh, Donna. We had the best times, didn't we? I'm so sorry. But I have to do this, to save your life." He put his hands on her temples, then, and her eyes closed, tears still falling, then she collapsed back into the human Doctor's arms, unconscious.

The Doctor stood up, slowly, and stepped back, turning to stare out to sea, his back to the others. After a long, shocked pause, Jackie spoke up. "What now? What are you going to do with her? Are you just going to leave her here, too?"

He answered without turning. "No. I'm taking her back home, to her mother's house."

His twin looked up. "No, you're not. You're taking US back there." As they all stared at him, the Doctor turning back, he went on. "I'll take care of her. She's part of me, I'm part of her. It's the right answer. And if – when – her memories start to resurface, I can change them to memories of her and me, larking about. I'll keep her safe." He looked up at Rose. "I'm sorry. It wouldn't have worked, you know. I belong with her. And you... I'm not the one you want, and we both know it."

Rose nodded, sadly, letting him go. She reached forward to help as he stood up, cradling Donna's limp form to his chest, and carried her into the TARDIS for the trip back to their own universe.

Jackie reached a hand towards Rose. "Come one, sweetheart. Let's go home."

Rose stared at her, incredulous. "I'm not staying here, Mum. I'm sorry. I can't."

"You're _leaving? Again?"_

"MUM!!" Rose was suddenly furious again. "I've BEEN leaving, for the last three years! The last FIVE! You've got to let me go!" Fury gone, as quickly as it had come. "Mum, I'm sorry." She walked over and reached out to hug Jackie. "I'm sorry. But this is my life. This is what I choose, what I chose a long time ago. I love you, I always will, and I'll always, _always_ miss you. But I've got to go, and you've got to let me go!" She gave her Mum a last, quick squeeze, then swiftly turned back to face the Doctor.

He was incredulous, staring. "You still want to come? Even after all this? After what I just..."

She walked up to him, emotions still dangerously out of balance. She shook her head. "Doctor. You are, without a doubt, _the_ most.. Aggravating. Infuriating. Brain-dead. _Clueless. Alien. EVER!"_ And with that, she grabbed his lapels and pulled his mouth down on hers, snogging him thoroughly. Then she broke it off, and pushed him back into place with a last exasperated growl, then turned and stalked through the TARDIS door, leaving him staring after her, mouth dropping open, utterly gobsmacked.

Several long seconds passed, and then the Doctor, shaking his head, turned back to Jackie. And flinched back, though she was still several feet away. She was staring at him with utter fury and contempt. "I ought to slap you into next week!"

A high-pitched, hysterical giggle escaped from the Doctor, then he just shook his head, wordlessly, and turned to enter the TARDIS.

As he closed the door the last time, she heard him mutter, "Yup. _Still_ got it."


	2. Quick Change of Plans

**Quick Change of Plans  
**

Pete and Jackie stood on the beach at Bad Wolf Bay, waiting for the TARDIS to disappear, taking their daughter away from them forever, for the last time forever, back to Jackie's original universe with her damned beloved Doctor. Pete wanted to pull his wife away from the sight, back to the jeep, and drive away, but he knew she wouldn't budge from the spot until the last trace was gone.

_What the hell is taking so long?_ He didn't think it usually took this long for the Doctor to weigh anchor, as it were, but then, what did he know?

So they waited. And waited some more. When Jackie turned to him, mystification sliding over her anger and sorrow, he knew _something_ was wrong.

Suddenly, the door opened again, and both Doctors filed out again, silently. Too silent. Trailing behind them by several seconds, Rose came creeping out, looking as though she wanted to simply sink into the sand and disappear without benefit of the TARDIS. Which wasn't far from how she felt. She stood to one side, head down, staring at the ground, tears dripping unnoticed.

"We're stuck," the Doctor told the two watchers. "The walls closed while we were... distracted. We can't get back."

Jackie gasped, and ran over to Rose, trying to gather her up, but Rose stood like a statue, not responding. Jackie whirled on the Doctor, taking a breath to berate him for blaming Rose, but he read her intent and held up his hand, stopping her. "Nobody's blaming anybody. It's useless and counterproductive. We've got to just deal with the situation we have."

Pete asked, "Can you move it at all?"

"There's enough power in the batteries to make a couple of distance jumps – no time jumping. She draws her power from the universe, and this one is on the wrong frequency. I've got to be very careful."

"Well, sitting here in the back of beyond won't help. Move it back to the mansion, and stay with us. We'll join you as fast we can drive there. I don't want to just leave my jeep here."

The Doctor nodded, but his doppelganger objected. "I can't take Donna there. She was supposed to wake up back home with her Mum, back in her old life. Now, I don't know what to do. There's no place I can take her!"

Everyone fell silent, pondering the situation.

Finally, the Doctor asked him, "What were you going to do back 'home', to explain yourself? Tell her she had amnesia?"

He nodded. "That's about the only answer, isn't it?"

"Well, that's still what you'll have to do, only now, you'll have to do it somewhere else, and explain being away from home somehow. We'll help you get set somewhere – though I don't see how we can do it before she wakes up."

Pete jumped in. "Here. Take the jeep. You'll be on a road trip, an extended holiday, while she recovers from whatever it was that gave her amnesia. She just had a relapse." He turned to the Doctor. "You can take Jackie and me back to the mansion, of course?"

And so it was agreed. Pete went to pull his things from the jeep, while the second Doctor went back inside the TARDIS to fetch Donna, taking Jackie along to grab some of her clothes.

After he'd stretched her out on the jeep's back seat, as naturally as he could arrange her, he turned around to find Rose there, still white-faced and tear-stained, but struggling for control. She held out something almost shockingly familiar. "He asked me to give you this. He said it was River's?" making the name a question.

He nodded, a bit misty, but didn't explain – no time. He took the sonic screwdriver and put it in his pocket and then grinned. "Tell him thanks."

She looked at him, misery incarnate, then blurted, "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

On impulse, he simply pulled her in and hugged her, as he'd done a million times before. "It's not your fault. Shit happens. We'll be all right."

After a minute or two, she pulled back, struggling for normalcy. "You're gonna need help. You're gonna need ID, for sure. Listen, get somewhere and check into a hotel, and then call me." She reached inside the jeep for the pad and pen on the dashboard, and scribbled a couple of phone numbers down. "I'll run some ID's at Torchwood and send them to you, along with some other things to help, but you'll have to stay put for a couple of days."

"OK. And thanks." He stopped for a moment, the magnitude of what he was getting into striking him, then shook his head. "Blimey."

"And hey – be careful with that screwdriver around cash machines. Don't get too much money at once, or too often. You can't just disappear any more, and sooner or later they'll catch on. The last thing we need is for you to land in jail."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"Ummmmm. Oh, yeah. What name shall I put on the ID's? John Smith?"

He thought for a while. "No. Something different. But not too different." He shrugged. "What do you think?"

"Michael? I've always liked that name."

He grinned. "Sure. Why not? Michael. Mike Smith. Sounds innocent enough, yeah?"

"Yeah." She grinned back – weakly, but it was a grin. "Well, we better get going before she wakes up. _Call me_ if you need _anything._ Yeah?"

"Go on, get going." He pulled her in for one last quick rough hug, then sent her back towards the TARDIS. She went, head down, puppy waiting for the kick. He watched her tiptoe back inside the door and close it, then seconds later, the box disappeared with the old familiar _whoosh._

_By all the stars, that's absolutely the lowest I've ever seen her. Don't take it out on her. Be gentle._ The newly-christened Mike Smith sent a last hopeful thought after his twin and the woman who'd shot herself through dimensions to get back to him. Then he opened the driver's door, sat down behind the wheel, and waited for Donna to wake up, planning the lies he was going to have to spin, and keep spinning, to save her life.

He could only hope, helplessly, that it would work, at least long enough to get her past the first few dangerous days. Because he knew better than anyone that he was a terrible liar. Time Lords just aren't built to lie! And this particular regen seemed worse at it than any other he'd had.

Slowly, though, he smiled. _It's been a very long time since I've had a challenge quite this big. A VERY long time._ And the stakes were the highest he'd ever seen: the sanity, and the very life, of his best friend. _Time to get to work._


	3. Kidnapped!

**Kidnapped!**

Donna woke up slowly, groggily. _That must have been one HELL of a party last night. I wish I could remember it._ She put one hand to her aching head and groaned, then realized that pain was coming from more than just her head. She was _very_ uncomfortable. Her neck was bent up at an acute angle, her head laying against the armrest, her knees were bent, and a seatbelt – make that two – were digging into her back.

Seatbelts? Armrest? What was she doing in a _car_? _Oh my god, I didn't even make it home!_

She managed to pry her eyelids open and looked blearily around. _And it's not even my car. Good thing – I wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink crammed into THAT back seat._

_Wait a minute, what am I thinking? Whose bloody car is this? And where the bloody hell AM I?_

She groaned again, and struggled to sit up. Suddenly, a man's head popped around the front seat, looking back at her anxiously. _Very_ anxiously. "Donna? Are... are you OK? I've been so worried!"

She'd flinched back from him when he appeared, eyeing him apprehensively. He was good-looking, and _seemed_ harmless, but.... "Who the hell are you?"

His face fell. He looked devastated, gut-punched. "You don't remember me? Again? Oh, god, not again!" His eyes closed, and he sank back into his seat.

"'Not again'? What's that supposed to mean? Who are you? Where are we?" She focused suddenly on the car's surroundings. They were on a broad, empty beach. And she was quite certain there was NO beach like that within a hundred miles of home. "Where the HELL are we? How did I get here?"

Wearily, as though he'd said it a hundred times before, the man replied, not looking up. "We're in our car. We're in... Norway, I think. And I'm Mike. Mike Smith. Your best friend – or at least I used to be."

She gaped at him, head spinning. "'Best friend'? Buddy, I've never seen you before in my life! What the hell do you mean, best friend? And you _think_ we're in _Norway?_ Are you bloody bonkers or what? You must be. You're daft! No, you're not, you're.... " She stopped, gasping. "Oh my god, you _kidnapped _me! Help! _Help!!!"_

She scrambled out of the car and began running away, stumbling to a stop after a couple dozen steps when the absolute emptiness and unfamiliarity of the landscape hit her with a double whammy. She whirled about, twice, three times, searching frantically for something familiar, some landmark she could recognize, or even just someone to help her. Nothing. Just some marks in the sand, where people had been recently.

She came to rest facing back towards the car again, which proved to be an old jeep. The man – what was his name? Mike? - Mike was walking slowly towards her, hands up as if to show they were empty. "Don't come near me!" She backed away a step, and he stopped, a few yards away.

"Donna. Please listen to me. Just listen for a minute. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm your friend. I'm trying to help you!"

"Oh, that's what you would say, isn't it? You keep away from me, you hear! You kidnapped me, but I'm not going to be your victim any more!"

"You're not my victim! I didn't kidnap you! I'm your friend! We've been traveling together since your... illness." He took a breath. "Look, do kidnappers bring along all their victim's clothes?"

"What?" She shook her head, bewildered by the sudden strange question. "Clothes?"

"Go look in the back of the car. Please. Just go look. I'll stay right here. Go on." He even backed out of the line between her and the car, opening the way.

She looked between him and the car, confused. Then a thought struck her. _I'll pretend to go look, then just jump in the car and get away!_ She nodded, then pointed at him. "Stay _right there!"_ She edged sideways, going around him in a wide circle, keeping several yards between them, not taking her eyes off him in case he moved. She came up to the back of the car and glanced in, leading him on. And then stopped cold, even more confused.

Her clothes _were_ there, piled up behind the back seat. Even her crazy old hat box. She looked back at him, quickly – he hadn't moved. "My hat box!" It was silly, she knew, but its presence really threw her.

"Yeah. Your hat box. And all your hats. Why would I have them, if I had kidnapped you?"

She shook off the confusion, all redhead again. "How should I know? Maybe you've got a hat fetish or something! Maybe that's _why_ you kidnapped me, because you wanted to get your hands on my hats!"

He stared at her a moment, and then did what she least expected. He spluttered, then broke out laughing, his hands dropping helplessly to his sides. "Your _hats?_ I wanted to get my hands on your _hats??_" He started laughing harder, doubling over. "Oh, yes. That's my Donna! Hats!"

Now she was really getting ticked off. "When you're quite finished _laughing_, skinny boy..." Her voice trailed off, struck by a sudden jolt of _d__éjà__ vu_. _Skinnyboy?_ And he'd seemed so familiar, for an instant, laughing at her like that. Just as quickly, though, the feeling passed.

He'd brought himself under control, though, in that second. Serious again, he said. "OK. Look in the front seat, then." She edged forward – well, that's where she wanted to go, anyway, although on the other side of the car. Maybe she could scoot through, if it had a bench seat. She glanced through the window. "What am I looking at now?" she asked, sarcastically.

"The newspaper. Look at the date." She glanced in, then reached in through the open window and scooped up the paper, bringing it back out and turning back, so as not to take her eyes off him too long. Then she glanced down at the date, and the world tilted sideways.

2012. 2012. July 18th, 2012. _That's not possible. It's only 2008!_

Jaw dropping, she stared at the paper for several long seconds. When she glanced up again, Mike had quietly walked up to her, stopping just outside arm's length. He began speaking, softly, kindly. "Donna. You've been ill. Very ill. Devarian fever. You almost _died..._ It settled in your brain, and you lost your memory. And it looks like you've just had another relapse. The doctors said that might happen a few times, but I had hoped that by getting you away from... where it happened, that you'd get better faster, and not relapse. I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Fever? Relapse?" she whispered. She was suddenly frightened, as well as bewildered, right down to her toes. She didn't want to believe him, but.... the world wouldn't stop spinning. She clutched at the car door, suddenly weary beyond belief.

"Are you OK?" He reached out, then, concern etched in his face, and she let him take her arm, and then put his arms around her and hold her tight. It felt so... right. So familiar. Maybe he _was_ telling her the truth. Maybe he _was_ her friend, and she had forgotten.

"I'm so confused." she whispered.

"I know." he answered. "Look, there was a town back down the road. I don't remember how far. Let's get off this beach, and go find a hotel. A long hot shower sounds pretty good, and some good hot food. Then we'll talk all this out, and start over. Again."

She looked up at him. "This happened before?"

He nodded, sadly. "It's your second relapse. This is the third – no, fourth time I get to introduce myself. Hi, I'm Mike Smith!" He smiled, only a little strained.

She tried a small smile back, even more strained. "Hi. Donna Noble."

He helped her into the front seat, and went around to slide behind the wheel, pulling the keys out of his pocket. She grimaced, realizing she wouldn't have been able to get away, after all.

"Can you manage the map?" he asked, picking one up from the floor and handing it to her. "I've never been good with them. Utter rubbish. I think we're.... there." His finger pointed to an inlet on the western coast, marked _Darlig Ulv Stranden_, and then below it, in slightly smaller letters, _Bad Wolf Bay._ The inlet and names had been circled in red marker. There was a small road leading to the southeast, apparently the one he was pulling onto now.

"OK. Um... yeah, there's a little town about... " she opened the map out and found the key, getting the distance measurements. "... about 10 kilometers up the road." She did a double-take at the key, then. "Norway. We really are in Norway. What are we doing here?"

He glanced sideways at her. "Traveling. Just wandering about, while you recovered. The doctors and I thought it would help to get away. But let's just not go into all that right now, OK? We'll talk about it later."

The first town they came to was too small to contain a hotel, as were the second and third. They continued on until they reached Bergen, and drove into the center of town, finding a nice place not far from the train station. Mike visited the cash machine across the street, then went in and secured a double room. Donna took advantage of the momentary solitude and walked to the newsstand on the corner, casually checking all the papers on display. Every one agreed with the date of the paper from the car. She tried not to show how shaken she was.

Later, she was relaxing in the bath when she thought she heard him talking on the other side of the door. Straining her ears, she realized he must be on the phone.

"Rose? Good, you're there. Yeah, we made it - we're at the Hotel Grand Terminus in Bergen. Room 406." He paused. "I don't know. I just don't know. Too early to tell." Another pause. "Yeah, OK. We'll be here. And, Rose? Thanks again...." The soft click told her he'd hung up.

Donna's eyes narrowed. Things were _definitely_ not as this Mike was so desperate to make them appear. _'We'll be here', eh, skinnyboy? Well, we'll just see about that. We'll just see...._


	4. Ghosts of Wilted Roses

**Ghosts of Wilted Roses**

On the twelfth floor of an anonymous, mid-priced hotel somewhere in London, Rose sat hunched against the headboard of the double bed, arms doubled around her knees, staring blindly at the abstract painting on the opposite wall. She'd been there for three days, staring, weeping, pacing, barely sleeping, not eating.

She'd lost him. Irrevocably. She knew it down to her toes. He hadn't wanted her back to begin with, sloughing her off on his twin, abandoning her here in the parallel universe, where he'd never have to worry about running into her again because the walls were closing forever. And then she'd gone and picked that stupid, _stupid_ catfight with Donna, like she was back on a grade-school playground. Way to impress the man you love with your maturity and level-headedness.

And then, worst of all, she'd gotten him stuck here, too. No way back. His beloved ship was dying, he couldn't even jump around in _this_ universe like he was used to.

She couldn't go back to the mansion. HE was there. She flinched away from the last memory, walking tentatively into the TARDIS where he had his head stuck under the console, fiddling with wires and doohickeys. "Doctor?" she'd called. No reaction, no reply, not even an acknowledgment of her existence. She'd turned and run out, tears streaming.

She didn't want to go back to Torchwood. The only reason she'd ever joined was because they represented the only possibility of getting back to him – and they'd succeeded. It wasn't their fault that she'd blown it. But she couldn't face the people, the inevitable questions, the memories, again. It had been bad enough during that flying visit to get Mike's and Donna's ID's. She couldn't do it again.

There wasn't anything else she could do, either.

For the umpteenth time, she considered simply ending it. Ending this miserable existence once and for all. She didn't have anything left to live for.

Trouble was, she did. She had two things: Mike and Donna. She had failed in absolutely everything else; she wasn't going to fail them. She didn't know how she could help, but she knew she was their ONLY lifeline in this parallel world. She owed it to them both, owed them a life debt – literally.

So she sat. And waited for Mike to call.

Jackie had called her mobile dozens of times, left dozens of messages. They'd started to trail off; only 6 today. Rose ignored them all, as she ignored every other ringtone except the one she'd assigned Mike.

He'd called on the mobile she'd sent him along with the ID's and a credit card on her own private account, to tell her the package had arrived safely, and thank her again. He'd picked up on her monotone voice immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing, I can tell. What's happened? Is he... is he giving you a hard time?"

"No."

"Rose." He let it hang.

The tears started seeping out again at his concern. "He won't speak to me. He won't even look at me. I've lost him. Oh, Mike. I've _lost_ him...."

"Christ..." Any other time, she would have grinned. He'd even picked up swear words from Donna. "I swear to the stars, if I ever see him again, I'm going to kick his bloody arse from here to Jupiter." He paused, then swore again. "Nine hundred years of always having the right answer, and suddenly I'm completely helpless. What can I do?"

"Nothing. Just take care of Donna. You've got to. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Not right now. I think it's going OK, she seems to have accepted the story. I thought maybe we might start heading south tomorrow – I don't want to be here for the winter. Maybe we'll find some nice little villa in Italy, and you can come join us there. How's that sound?"

"Sounds nice. Maybe I'll go ahead and find one for you. For us. I'll look around, yeah? Italy or France?"

"Right now, I don't care. Whatever you like. Rose... please, _please_ take care of yourself. And don't give up. I don't know what's going on in his head right now, we seem to have taken drastically different turns. But I know how he felt before. I know how he felt when he – I – turned around and saw you on that street. And it just doesn't make sense, what he's doing now. Don't give up on him. Maybe he's just in shock from everything."

"Maybe." Highly doubtful.

Silence for a moment. Then, "I've got to go, I've got to get back up to the room. I'll keep in touch, yeah?"

"Yeah."

It hadn't helped, that reminder about their aborted reunion. How could he have changed so much in such a short time – less than twelve hours from street to beach? It didn't make sense.

Then again, what ever _did_ make sense where the Doctor was concerned?

Now, it was the day after that phone call, after another sleepless night. She'd made herself call room service that evening for a burger and chips, then found it was the wrong thing to order – she couldn't stand the smell, let alone the sight, of those chips. Too many memories. She'd tossed it in the trash, uneaten. Some toast – no marmalade – and coffee went down a bit easier this morning. She'd then made herself go out and find a local computer shop and buy a cheap laptop – no way she was going to retrieve her own from the mansion – and was back in her hotel room, idly looking at real estate websites, switching to maps and tourism sites, trying to narrow down a good target area. Some place she'd never been to, some place without any resident memories.

Her phone rang again, and she began to ignore it, but then it dawned on her that it was Mike's tone. She grabbed it up. "Mike?"

"She's disappeared. I can't find her. God help me, Rose, she's _gone!!_"


	5. Mike Smith, Private Eye

**Mike Smith, Private Eye**

"She's disappeared. I can't find her. God help me, Rose, she's _gone!!_" Mike was in a panic. "I went to sleep a little after midnight, everything was fine, but when I woke up this morning she was gone!"

"Oh my god. OK, calm down. We'll figure it out." Rose's voice on the other end of the line was strained, but just hearing it did wonderful things for his nerves. It gave him that one single familiar thing to focus on in this chaos. "Did she have any money?"

"Yeah, she snitched the rest of the cash I'd gotten out of the cash machine." He named a sum, and Rose groaned. Loudly. "Uh, I take it that was too much?"

"Yeah." Dry as toast. "By a magnitude of at least ten."

"Well, how should I know? Pounds, I get. Euros, even. They're still using Kroner here!"

"Never mind. OK, she's solvent. She took her passport and ID, too, no doubt?"

"Yup. Oh, god, Rose, I've looked everywhere. Where could she be?"

"Hush. I know exactly where she is – or rather, where she's heading. She's coming here, to London. She's trying to get home. You must not have convinced her as well as you thought that she hadn't been kidnapped."

Mike groaned, slapping his forehead like a cartoon. "Of course. I'm so stupid."

She chuckled softly, making a corner of his heart lift. "Now that's a first."

He put on his best Mickey cockney: "Shut it."

"OK, first things first. We need to find out how she's traveling. Are you closer to the rail station or the airport?"

"Rail station – right on top of it."

"That's the most likely, then. Get over there and ask around. Someone will remember her; she's not exactly inconspicuous. If you don't find any trace in an hour, then head over to the airport and ask there. She's got to have gone one way or the other. When you do find out which, get her itinerary, find out when she'll arrive here in London."

"Yes, ma'am! But either way, she's going to beat me there. I can't drive as fast as the train, even, and I still have to get across the water."

"Don't worry about that. If it comes to it, just leave the jeep; we'll retrieve it later. Just lock it securely and remember where you park!"

He hung up and headed back to the station, wishing he had that blasted psychic paper to flash around. It would have made it just a bit easier to bluff the ticket agents. Even without it, though, he finally found the right one, the one who remembered the tall, brassy redheaded Englishwoman.

"Ja, she was here. This morning. Bought a ticket to London, via Oslo, Copenhagen, Cologne, and Brussels. She arrives tomorrow afternoon, three o'clock!"

Reporting his success back to Rose, she sent him to the airport to take the evening commuter flight to Oslo (_carefully_ writing down the jeep's parking space), then on to London the next morning; he'd missed the last connection that night. He spent a miserable night on the orange plastic chairs in the boarding area, wishing he still didn't have to sleep, then suffered the joys of an extremely turbulent flight crammed into a small tin can with 200 other humans. _OK, it's not as bumpy as the TARDIS can be, but at least that's over in a few seconds!_

Feeling as though he'd been physically assaulted for three days straight, he stumbled up the gangway at Heathrow to one of the most welcome sights he'd ever seen: Rose, on tiptoe, straining over the barrier to catch sight of him. He hung on his heel for one precious second, drinking her in before she glimpsed him and let loose her supernova smile.

He almost ran through the gate and swept her up, swinging her around three times (almost kicking the others streaming by; they sidestepped with an indulgent grin for the supposed lovers) before setting her down again and just holding her close for a long, long moment. She rested her head on his shoulder like she used to, letting herself pretend for one brief millisecond that it was another pair of arms that held her.

Finally, they both stepped back, each seeing the strain etched deeply into the other's face. He cupped his hand on her cheek, asking wordlessly, and she just shook her head. No change.

Then she forced another smile. "Come on, I bet you're famished. There's a good restaurant here in the airport terminal where we can get either breakfast or lunch, before we go back to the hotel."

"Hotel? Not the house?"

"No. I'm not staying there right now. I can't..... No, please, just drop it for now. Please." before he could say anything. He shut his mouth, filing another grievance away against his twin, promising himself he'd settle the score as soon as they'd found Donna.

They found the restaurant and were seated immediately, taking their time over the menus. Rose thought she might be able to handle a salad, but let Mike talk her into adding a bowl of french onion soup, one of her favorites, while he settled on roast beef and potatoes. She was right, he _was_ famished. He was worried about her obvious lack of appetite, but let it pass for now.

Orders given, she looked across at him, turning serious. "Mike, please listen to me for a minute. I think we're going about this all wrong." She took a deep breath. "Donna's a smart cookie. I'll bet she's already seen through your story about an illness – you just aren't that good a liar. Yeah?"

"Yeah. I thought she'd been acting suspiciously tame; but I put it down to being frightened by losing her memories – there's an obvious gap between her last memory and waking up in Norway, no matter how long it actually took or how she got there. But what else can we do?"

"Tell her the truth. She's strong, she can handle it."

"No. NO! We can't EVER tell her. She'll _die,_ Rose. You know that!" She shushed him – his voice had risen and people at nearby tables were looking at him.

"Mike, please think. She'll die if her memories do come back, and they're not caught in time – yes, I know that. But _knowing_ and _remembering_ are two different things. It's the difference between being told about something you've never seen, and actually remembering your own first-hand experience of it. The latter will kill her. The former will warn her, and she can help us police her own memories.

"You know she's strong, and tough. She can take the truth. She might even be able to handle having _some_ of her memories return. Answer me truthfully. I didn't have to have all of my memories removed, only the ones directly involving becoming and being the Bad Wolf. Why wouldn't it be the same for her? Why can't she remember most of her travels with you – with the Doctor," she was able to get the name out without flinching, "and just not the last parts, where you were created, and she became part Time Lord? She could be _told_ about that, and then she'd understand, and be on the lookout for those memories surfacing. Can you give me a good reason why not?"

He sat back, considering, thinking it through. Why _had_ the Doctor felt it necessary to remove _all_ her memories? Slowly, he answered aloud, knowing she'd follow the thought. "He did it to keep her from trying to remember the rest of it, and to keep her from.... missing him, from missing the life she could no longer have. He knew how much traveling with him meant to her. As much as it had meant to you. And she'd fight just as hard to get back to him as you had."

She did flinch, then – that was coming much too close to her aching wound. He saw, and apologized, reaching across to take her hand. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy. Please forgive me."

She nodded, and waved him off. "Go on."

He was silent for a bit, and she prompted him. "The situation's completely different now, though, from what he thought he was going to leave her in. Isn't it? He thought he was just going to put her back home, back into her old life, but that's out of reach now, and for who knows how long? Maybe forever. And she's going to _have_ to have a good explanation, or she'll end up in the mental ward. Or worse."

He nodded. "And the one we came up with just isn't going to cut it." He took a deep breath, and blew it out, then grinned at her. "When did you get to be so brilliant, Rose Tyler?"

She sighed, not smiling. "Not brilliant. Utterly stupid. But maybe I know just a bit more than you do about being human. And a lot more about being female."

As their meals arrived, he sat up straight again, and rubbed his face. "Let me think about this for a bit, and let's just enjoy this food. _Bon appetit!"_ And he tucked in with such gusto that she couldn't help but smile. Before she knew it, she'd finished her meal, too.

After they finished, Rose led Mike out to her car, and drove back to her hotel, where they resumed discussing their options. With a couple hours leisure time to talk it out, rather than the rushed two minutes on the beach, they considered and discarded a number of options, and finally Rose convinced him that her plan was best all around, especially considering they had no idea how long they might remain in the alternate universe. The way it looked, it might be forever, so it was best to simply plan for it, and possibly be pleasantly surprised some time down the road.

As three o'clock approached, they agreed that Rose should be the one to intercept Donna at her old address, since the redhead would most likely simply run from Mike again. "Mind if I take a shower while you're gone?"

She looked at him, _then_ smiled. "Please do."

He took the hint. "Thanks a lot." She took pity on him, then, and called down to the desk for a pack of emergency men's toiletries, then took off for Chiswick. Mike had the luxury of a very long, hot shower, standing under the stream and simply existing, letting the water wash away the stress of the past few days. He wandered out with simply a towel around his waist and sat on one of the beds – the one that didn't look used – then, utterly exhausted, he suddenly just lay back and before he knew it was sound asleep. He woke briefly some unknown time later, thinking he'd heard the door, but there was no-one there. Realizing he was freezing, having only the damp towel for covering, he dropped it on the floor and crawled under the covers, falling back asleep in seconds. He didn't wake up again till Rose and Donna came in, hours later.


	6. Nine Hundred Years Too Old

**Nine Hundred Years Too Old**

Nine hundred years is a long time to live. Sometimes, it felt like too long, by about eight hundred and ninety-five, give or take.

The Doctor had seen everything, lived through everything; wars and famines and revolutions; peaceful years on farms and vineyards, plantings and harvests and bottles of homemade wine; long voyages and short hops; friends, lovers, and enemies – sometimes all rolled into one; watching cities get built in a day, destroyed in an hour; great men and women whose names would live forever, more everyday, anonymous-to-history individuals than he could possibly count; incredible, heart-pounding adventures, and long periods of utter boredom; losing his entire race, his home planet, and making the biggest family on earth, one by one; the highest, most exhilarating highs, and the lowest, soul-crushing lows.

He'd never felt lower.

Not even Time Lords are immune to self-images, or self-deception. You set your goals, you try to live up to your ideals, and you think you're doing a great job, you think you can look yourself in the mirror every night, and then.... your mask is brutally stripped away, your shortcomings laid bare for the world, and all the people you care most about, and especially yourself, to see. Your nose is undeniably rubbed in the blood of the people who have died because of you, for you; you think you've been honoring their memory and their sacrifice but no, that sacrifice should never even have happened. And you're shown the ugly side of your effect on those you love, how those who should never have had more to shoulder than a baby or a mortgage are shouldering unthinkable weapons, calmly and forcefully, and threatening to use them on entire planets of people. Their own people. Just like you did.

And then... and then....

And then you are shown yourself, your very own self, once again taking that final, irrevocable step, without mercy or remorse. _Genocide......_

He felt he couldn't breathe, thought he'd never breathe again. He'd tried so hard, so hard, to put things right afterwards. Tried to save Davros, who refused, taunting him to the last. Sent all the planets back to their places in the universe, reveling in the all-too-brief, incredible, heady joy of sharing the dance with not one, but two others just like himself. And then that flight back home, that he'd never ever forget, one blissful hour of working side-by-side with some of the people he loved most.

And he'd tried, so hard, so hard, to settle each of them back into their lives, giving them good starts, far, far away from him and his influence, so that they'd never ever again turn back into the gun-toting, planet-threatening, life- and soul-endangered specters he'd been shown on the Crucible.

And then it had all blown up in his face, again, because he'd let himself be distracted for that crucial minute on the beach, and missed the last opportunity to get back home.

He was trapped, pinned like a butterfly in some insane collector's trophy box, naked and shamed for all eternity, unable to travel, unable to escape, desperately trying to breathe past the psychic chloroform.

And now he'd lost Rose. The one bright ray of hope, the one person who might have made it OK to be stuck here.

He'd worked like a madman for days, frantically searching through every inch of the TARDIS for some overlooked circuit, some bit of data, some piece of info in the ship's vast library that would prove the key to getting back to their home universe, or even just finding a way to travel in this one. Hoping that if he found it, he could win her back – yeah, she'd fought to stay with him, literally, then turned down his twin and marched back onto the TARDIS after kissing him (and his mind still reeled whenever those eternal five seconds replayed in his memory – which only happened about every six minutes or so), but still, what could he offer her if he was grounded here forever? It was the life of adventure she wanted, as much as himself, maybe, probably more than himself. Without the TARDIS, without that freedom, he was nothing.

So he worked frantically, not sleeping, not eating, finding himself coming abruptly to his senses time after time with his head stuck in a console or a book, after his mind had reeled back to the scene in the Crucible, screaming silently over the faces of dead companions as his raw nerves were plucked one by one. Once or twice he thought he'd caught a whiff of her perfume, or the echo of her voice, but when he looked, she was never there. He couldn't seek her out, couldn't look her in the face, until he had something to offer, something to make up for his attempting to abandon her. His mind shied away from the thought, then kept coming back to it, over and over. How could she ever forgive him for it?

Then, after seemingly an eternity, (even though his Time Lord clock brain told him it had only been five days, six hours, and thirty-two minutes), he found the answer. Maybe. It was only the slimmest chance, the merest possibility, and would depend on split-second timing and a hell of a lot of luck, but maybe, just maybe, if they were positioned just right, and had exactly the right recipe of active circuits and power loops, they might squeeze back through the rabbit hole. He splashed some water on his face and hair, rubbed it off with a towel, and went to find her.

She wasn't there.

He searched the entire mansion, top to bottom, finally coming upon Jackie and Pete (just coming in from the office) in the front hall. "Where's Rose? I need to find her, I have to tell her something!"

They stared at him, Jackie's jaw dropping and her face slowly turning red. Uh-oh. "She's not here," she hissed at him through reclenched teeth.

"Well, where is she? Is she coming back soon?" he asked with what he hoped was a reasonable, not-too-desperate tone.

"How should I know? She's _gone_, she _disappeared, four bloody days ago!_ She walked out and she hasn't come back, and she won't answer my phone calls!"

He gaped at her. "Why?"

"Why? WHY? Because of YOU, you stupid moron! No, let me speak!" she said to Pete, shaking his restraining hand off her arm. "He's had this coming for a long, long time! It's because of you! Everything is _always_ because of you! She's thrown her life away, again and again and again, just to be with you, and now... now when she needed you most, you wouldn't even LOOK at her! You didn't even know she was GONE!

How _could_ you? How can you be so STUPID, so INSENSITIVE? You just stand there gaping, like she hasn't got a right to be anywhere else but right here waiting for you, and you never even _think_ about her, about her feelings, about what you do to her every time you go and act all stupid! You _left_ her here before, and you were going to do it again, and you never even thought about it! And now you have the gall to wonder why she isn't here to greet you when you just happen to remember she exists? You're just that stupid, aren't you?

"_You don't deserve a minute's consideration from her! You need to just get the hell out of her life once and for all and leave her the bloody hell ALONE!!!"_

The Doctor had been backing up from the advancing tiger, and he staggered against the stairs and sat down, hard, shaken to his core. He gaped at Jackie, her words searing his brain. She ran out of steam and stood over him, shaking, furious, until Pete reached out again and gently drew her back, saying "I think he's got the point, sweetheart."

The Doctor buried his head in his shaking hands, screwing his eyes shut against sudden tears. She was right. She was completely, one hundred percent right.

He heard Jackie give one last, supremely disgusted snort, then she stalked away, heels rapping towards the back of the house in a sharp staccato of disdain. Pete seemed to linger, back on his heel, then he quietly came over and sat on the step beside the Doctor.

After several long minutes, the Doctor said, so softly that Pete nearly had to strain to hear him, "I was going to apologize. I was going to try to make things right. But now it's too late, isn't it? I've lost her."

Pete watched him, considering, then finally said, "Maybe. Maybe not." The Doctor glanced at him, hope warring with despair. Another long pause, and Pete said, "I know where she is. I'll take you there."

***

Twenty minutes later, Pete pulled into the hotel driveway and stopped. He turned to the Doctor. "What are you going to say?"

Any other time, that might have been rude, but.... he answered, "How sorry I am. How much of an idiot I've been. How I'll do anything to make it up to her. How much I need her with me, always. How much...."

Pete nodded approvingly. "Good start. Mind if I give you a little advice?"

"Oh, please do." He meant it.

"Say your piece – and I meant it, what you said is good – and then, by all that's holy, _shut the hell up and LISTEN._ She's got things she needs to say to you, that she needs to know you heard. Listen, and make sure she knows you understand." He grinned, wryly. "Women can talk your ear off, that's for certain – I should know, and it's the easiest thing in the world to just tune them out. 'Uh-huh, yes, dear.' The trick is knowing when to do that." A beat. _"Now is not the time."_

The Doctor nodded. "Good advice. Thank you."

Pete looked at him a second longer, then said "Room 1216. Go get 'em, Tiger."

***

The Doctor stood in front of the door, staring at the numbers. He put his palm alongside them, then his ear, half listening for noise from inside – there was none – half just reliving the separation at the Wall. He knocked, very softly, but there was no response. He hesitated, then pulled out the sonic screwdriver and buzzed the door open, and tiptoed in.

Two steps from the door, he froze, as the entire parallel universe came crashing down around him.

His twin was lying on the bed, sound asleep, utterly naked except for a towel.

He'd lost. The other man had beaten him here, and won Rose. She was gone, as far out of his reach as if they were still in different worlds.

He didn't know how long he stood there, fighting for breath, before he managed to turn and walk out again, quietly closing the door behind him. Utterly oblivious to his surroundings, he somehow managed to get back down the elevator and walk out the front door. He turned and started walking down the street, just walking.

At the end of the block, he started running.

And he kept running, on and on and on, long past his endurance, past memory, past city, cars, country, people. Long past everything.

And when he finally stopped running, he started drinking.


	7. Little Girl Lost

**Little Girl Lost**

As the sleek Eurostar bullet train shot out of the Chunnel and began the final leg to St Pancras International Station in London, Donna leaned her forehead against the glass, a small smile peeking out through prickling tears at the longed-for sight of the green, green English countryside. It had been an exhausting, nerve-wracking thirty-three hours since she'd snuck out of the hotel room, leaving a sleeping Mike behind, and run across the street to the train station, making good her escape. She'd been completely thrown by the cash she'd grabbed from his suit pocket; no idea how far it would get her. Apparently, it was a hell of a lot, which only reinforced her belief that something was very, very wrong. She'd only had to peel a few bills off the top to pay for her entire combined ticket to London, though it took her a few seconds to translate.

"Kroner? Don't you guys use Euros, too?" The ticket agent had looked at her like she was speaking Greek, then just shrugged. It wasn't worth an argument.

She'd spent the next half-hour hiding in the women's restroom, dashing to the train at the last second, darting looks around in every direction, sure that Mike would jump out and grab her. But he didn't. She'd apparently given him the slip. Once safely on board, and the train pulled out and began the first leg of her trip to Oslo, she'd snorted. Old Skinnyboy wasn't so sharp, after all. She wasn't sure why she kept calling him that in her mind, but it just seemed to fit.

He'd spun her some story that first night, all right, about how she'd taken ill with some virus and lost her memory, continuing the line he'd started on the beach, but she never more than half believed him. She could tell he was lying. And the pieces just didn't add up. She'd asked about her Mum and Granddad, and he'd spun some baloney about how they had sent her off with their blessing, but they'd recently moved, and he didn't have their new phone number on him, so she couldn't call right then. She'd tried calling the house, anyway, the one time he'd left her in the room alone for a bit, but kept getting some tyre shop instead, and couldn't manage to get through to directory assistance. That was when her determination to escape and get home somehow had crystallized.

When he'd come back in a few minutes later, she'd seen him slip what looked like passports and some cash into his pocket, so when she woke up very early the next morning, that's the first place she looked. She did indeed find passports, one for each of them – and half of her information was dead wrong. She'd grabbed it, anyway, along with the wad of cash, and only a couple changes of clothes stuffed into a bag – to hell with the hats.

She'd hesitated for just a moment before silently tiptoeing out of the room, watching him sleep. She had such mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, she was sure he'd kidnapped her, or at the very least was lying and holding her captive – he hadn't let her out of his sight for more than a few seconds, except for that one brief time the day before. On the other hand, though, part of her was inexplicably drawn to him, liked him, even _trusted_ him, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He _felt_ like an old friend – like her _best_ friend. He knew just how to get her to laugh, knew her tastes in clothes and food, and he seemed to genuinely care about her.

And there was indeed that inexplicable four-year gap in her memory – unless he'd somehow managed to get all the newspaper vendors in on the date conspiracy, which didn't seem likely.

Nevertheless, she was sure she wasn't going to find out the truth if she stayed here with him. So she'd crept from the room, and onto the train, to begin her journey home.

Now, thirty-three hours and five – five! – trains later, she stumbled from the Eurostar and out through the station, stopping at the currency exchange booth to trade a few more of her Kroner notes (she wasn't sure they weren't counterfeit, although everyone seemed to take them OK, so she only exchanged a few) for some British pounds – at least _those_ were still familiar. Then she stepped out to the curb and climbed into the next cab in the waiting line, giving the driver her address in Chiswick.

She'd _never_ been so glad to see her front door. Barely stopping to toss the driver a note – far more than he'd asked for, but she didn't care – she ran up the walk and in through the door.

And stopped dead, as several pairs of utterly unfamiliar eyes stared at her, shocked.

"Oi!" cried the man at the head of the table. "Who the devil are you, and how dare you come busting into our home like you own it!"

"_Your_ home! This is MY home! Where's Mum? Where's Granddad? What's going on here?" She looked around for them, wildly, half-hoping they'd both pop out from behind a door yelling "Surprise!" Then she got another shock, as it sunk into her that the furniture, the decorations, all of it was completely different from her home.

"I'm sorry, dearie, but you must have opened the wrong door," the lady – apparently the man's wife – was saying. "You must have gotten turned around or something."

Donna's face was mirroring her shock and confusion. "No, I couldn't have. This is my address." She rattled it off, and they nodded, but then the lady continued.

"But that's our address, dearie. We've lived here for twenty years now."

"No. You couldn't have! My _Mum_ lived here that long, and my _Dad,_ and _Granddad!_ Sylvia Noble. Geoff Noble. Wilfred Mott. This is _their_ house!"

They were all shaking their heads. "Never heard of any of 'em."

Then a new voice spoke up – the old man in the big chair in front of the TV. "Wait a minute. Wilfred Mott? Wilf?"

She turned to him, joyous relief pouring out – relief that turned to horror a moment later, when he continued. "Wilf died back in the war – the big one. Never even had a wife, let alone a daughter."

Donna began shaking, shocked and dazed. She turned and ran out of the house, unable to stand there another minute. Running back down the walk, she spied her neighbor, Mrs Fitz. "Mrs Fitz! Oh, thank GOD! Please tell these people who I am!" as the interlopers came out the door behind her.

But Mrs Fitz was looking at her as strangely as the others had. "I'm sorry, dear, but I don't know you. Who are you?"

Donna's jaw dropped. She started to feel a rush of anger, then, finally, but before she could work up a head of steam, a new voice came from behind.

"Donna Noble."

She whirled, hoping and expecting to see some familiar face, somebody she knew who could set things straight, but the woman standing behind her was as much a stranger as the people in "her" house. Slightly shorter than herself, shoulder-length bleached blonde hair – but she was smiling, and she knew her name.

Donna shook her head. "Who are _you?"_

Just for an instant, the woman seemed to give her a strange, measuring look, then the smile was back. "Rose Tyler."

"I don't know any Ro- wait a minute! _Rose!_ You're _his_ friend, aren't you, the one he was talking to on the phone!"

Rose chuckled. "Oh, you are a smart cookie. I told him so. Yes, I'm Mike's friend." The smile dropped, then, and Rose stepped forward – just one step – holding out her hand to Donna, concern and sincerity written on her face. "Donna. Please. I'm here to help you."

"_Help_ me! Listen, ducks, all I want is the truth! Just tell me what the _hell_ is going on!"

"I will. I promise, I will. Can we just go sit in my car? No? OK, how about we just go lean against it and get off these good people's front yard?" She gestured to a sedan parked across the street. It was still in full view of everyone, so Donna figured she wasn't going to get jumped (she didn't see Mike anywhere, and she had certainly been looking), so she nodded and walked over to it, keeping at least an arm's length away from Rose. She felt cowed, bewildered; she'd had one too many shocks.

"OK, Donna. I swear on my soul that what I'm about to tell you is the absolute truth. Unfortunately, you're not going to believe it one bit. But you asked for it." She looked at Donna for another beat, and said, simply, "You're in a parallel world. You've jumped across realities."

Donna's jaw dropped. "Do you think I'm stupid? A _parallel world?_ Come _on!"_

Rose grinned. "I told you you wouldn't believe it. OK, answer me this. Which is more believable? A, that every memory you have – and I know you're missing some – is false, and you never lived in this house. B, that we – Mike and me – have somehow managed to create a massive conspiracy and convinced everyone on this street, along with everyone else you've met in the last few days, to go along with it – just for little old you. Or C, that you're in a parallel world. Hm?"

Donna stared at her for several seconds, then, in a frightened whisper, "Granddad? They said he died in the war, never had kids, but he did! He did!"

"Yes, he did – in the other world, in your world, in _our_ world – I'm from that world, too. He didn't here. You were never born, here. Neither was I. We're both out of place."

"And Mike?"

"Yes, and Mike."

"Then, Granddad's OK? He's still OK, in the other world? And Mum?"

"Yes, they're both OK, Donna. They're fine. And you're gonna be OK, too. I promise."

Unable to cope any longer with the emotional shocks, Donna began to cry. Rose stepped over to her and took her up in her arms, holding her gently for several minutes until she was able to stop. Then she pulled back slightly, rubbing the taller woman's arms as if to help her circulation and warm her up – she looked as chilled as she must have felt.

"It's OK. It's gonna be OK. Look, are you ready to talk now? I'm going to take you somewhere, where I can prove what I've been telling you. OK?" Donna nodded.

Rose started to turn towards the car, then glanced up and smiled. "Donna. To start with, have you looked up recently?"

"Why?" Then she did so, and did a double-take at the zeppelins filling the sky.

"That's why." Donna wondered why Rose's smile was bittersweet. "They were the first sign we had that something was wrong, too."

***

The public library may not have been the _last_ place Donna expected to find Rose's promised proof, but it was certainly near the bottom of the list. "What are we doing here?"

"You wouldn't trust a book or a computer that _I_ handed to you – I could easily have doc- um, messed with it. But I couldn't very well change every book in the entire public library just to pull the wool over your eyes, could I? Or for that matter, change the internet, which you can reach on those computers over there. What's your pleasure? I bet you won't get three books before you hit something odd – especially if you hit the history section. Even fiction, though – you won't _believe_ who Elizabeth Bennett marries here." Then she spied something behind the circulation desk. "Or, we could just start right here." She pointed towards a large portrait on the wall.

"What about it?"

"Read the caption."

"'Terrence Jones, President of the United Kingdom and....' _President?"_

"Yup. So. Pick a direction."

Donna chose the computers, to surf the web. They found an empty one, and Donna sat at the keyboard. She typed in Google. Nothing happened.

"Try Goggle." It worked – the familiar search engine page appeared, misspelled. Donna gulped.

"Is it still Wikipedia?" Getting a nod, she went there, and started with an overview of British history – one of the few subjects she'd been good at in school.

Half an hour later, she sat back, stunned. And convinced. "OK. I believe you."

"Just one more thing. And I'm sorry to do this to you, but I think it's important." Rose reached across her shoulders and typed in a url from a piece of paper she pulled from her pocket. It came up on a War Department site, listing casualties from certain battlegrounds in World War II. Rose nodded to Donna – she didn't have to tell her what to look for.

Donna typed in her granddad's name and clicked Search, closing her eyes. A moment later, she found the courage to look – and there it was. She started crying softly. Rose pulled her chair even closer and put her arms around Donna's shoulders again, speaking in a low voice. "I know. I know. My mum died in this world, too. And I was never born. But remember, Donna, they're both alive and well in the other universe. They're OK."

"Are we going to get back there?"

A very long pause. "I don't know. We're trying. But I don't know."

***

Leading the way into her hotel room, Rose suddenly stopped, turning to Donna with a huge grin and dancing eyes, putting her finger over her lips. Donna peeked past her and saw Mike, snoring, dead to the world. Rose quietly put down her bag of Chinese takeout, tiptoed over to the side of his bed, leaned over, and yelled "Good morning, sunshine!" in his ear.

His reaction was all they'd hoped for. He sat _straight_ up, eyes wild, yelling "AAAGH!" Taking in the two women falling over with laughter, he wilted, panting, then growled "Rose Tyler, I am going to _kill_ you." He started to throw back the covers to lunge for her, then visibly remembered he had nothing on. Rose, laughing even harder, picked the towel off the floor and held it out to him, challenge in her eyes. He glared at her, then, with all the male dignity he could muster, simply went ahead and tossed the blanket aside, got up and _stalked_ into the bathroom for his clothes – ignoring the towel.

_Just_ before the door closed, Donna gasped out, "Oh, he _does_ have a cute bum!" He slammed the door, utterly routed.

Half an hour later, empty takeout boxes strewn everywhere, Donna took a deep breath. "OK. I've eaten – thank you, I feel much better now. And I've been convinced; we're somehow in a parallel world. Now it's time for you to make good your promise to explain the rest of it. Starting with my memories."

Rose looked at Mike, eyebrows raised. This was the tricky part. He sighed. "Donna.... do you trust me?"

She looked at him for a very long moment, then simply decided to trust him. She really didn't have any choice – and there was still that odd familiarity, that inexplicable prompt from deep inside that said she could. She nodded.

"OK." He got up from his chair, and sat down in front of her on the bed. "This is going to sound completely mad. Just go with it for a minute. I'm going to unlock your memories – but not all of them. They're going to start cascading through your mind. _Don't_ try to grab onto any of them just yet – I need to be able to stop them at just the right moment. Just try to relax." Without giving her time to react to his gibberish, he put his hands on either side of her face, and closed his eyes.

She gasped, shutting her own eyes tight as images, sounds, scents, even flavors, began flashing through her mind, far, far too fast to grasp. She mentally flinched back, then somehow she heard his voice again _inside her head_, saying _No, just relax a bit. We're almost there._ Suddenly the flow shut off with an almost audible click. She was aware of his presence inside her mind for a few more seconds, as if he were making sure she was all right, then it was gone, leaving her head spinning.

She felt him gently push her back against the headboard, felt Rose come sit close beside her, felt Rose's arm around her shoulders. She put her hands over her face, as the now-unlocked memories began flooding through her mind again, this time more slowly; she could almost grab and taste each one. "Easy, there," she heard Mike say. "Don't try too hard. You'll have time to relive them. They're not going away again."

After several minutes, the flow seemed to stop again. She pulled her hands down, looked at Mike – _and recognized him._ "Doctor? Oh my god, Doctor, it's YOU!!!" And she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him for all she was worth.

After a few minutes, he gently pried her arms loose, and leaned back a bit. He smiled, so sadly. "I'm not the Doctor, Donna. I'm not _the_ Doctor. I'm... a duplicate, created in a freak accident, during those memories I couldn't unlock just now."

He took a deep breath. "This is where it gets very, very sticky. I have to be very, very careful what I tell you, because – please listen closely – if the memories I've left locked _ever_ return... Donna. They could kill you. You could literally die, just from remembering. Do you understand that?"

Her mouth had dropped open, her eyes round. Then, slowly, she nodded. "If you had told me that before you unlocked my memories, I would have told you you were absolutely barking mad. But now... with all the things I did see, did do.... I... Do you remember the Library? Or, I guess I should ask, do you know about the Library?"

"I remember. Donna, I have all the Doctor's memories, up to a point – and again, that point is within the ones I've locked."

She gave a small laugh. "Like I said.... the Library. I was _in_ the computer. Literally living _inside_ the Library computer. After that....? Yeah, I believe you. Go on, spaceman."

What she had called him automatically hit both of them at once, and they both laughed together.

Speaking as slowly and carefully as he had ever done in his life, Mike laid out the broad outline he'd agreed on with Rose of what it was safe to tell her: the 'bare bones' of how he'd been created, half-human; how she'd been given the Time Lord mind; and why the Doctor had been forced to take it from her, to save her life. Donna didn't really take notice when Rose got up and moved out onto the balcony. Mike did, but let her go; he knew she was feeling the harsh, unbearable sting of all this talk about the absent Time Lord.

Donna took a deep breath. "You're the Doctor's.... twin? With all his memories?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "Hi. I'm Mike Smith."

Flashing back to the beach, she grinned back. "Hi. Donna Noble."

They laughed again, then Donna sighed. "There's still so much I don't understand. Why did he take all my memories, too? How did we get here into this parallel world, and why are we stuck here? Why were you and me off in Norway by ourselves? Where IS the Doctor? How did Rose come into the picture?"

Suddenly she stopped, struck by the realization. "Oh my god. Doc – Mike. That IS Rose! That's _Rose!"_ She grabbed his hands, eyes wide, waiting for his delighted reaction. She didn't understand when he simply sighed, "Yeah." Shaking her head, confused, she turned to look at Rose, out on the balcony.

And screamed. "_OH MY GOD!!!"_

Mike whirled around and screamed, too, _"NOOOOOOOOOO!"_ He lunged through the balcony door, moving faster than he ever had in 900 years, trying desperately to reach her in time.

Rose was teetering on the railing, twelve stories above the concrete.


	8. Endings and Beginnings

**Endings and Beginnings**

"I'm not the Doctor." "I'm not the Doctor." "I'm not the Doctor." Mike's voice seemed to echo through Rose's head, over and over, driving iron spikes through her heart. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she melted away from the other two and shrank out the door onto the balcony.

_I've lost him. I've lost him. I'll never see him again, and it's all my fault._ She couldn't bear the pain. She stared out into the night, over the London skyline, up to the few stars that shone through the atmosphere here in the city. The stars she'd never see again in person, like she'd never see her love again.

The night breeze caressed her face, blowing her hair back, singing the seductive answer in her ears. _Just end it. Just one little step, and it'll all be over. No more pain._ Following the siren call, she slipped one leg over the railing, staring straight ahead, and hitched herself up so she was sitting astride the bar. A final deep breath, and she slipped forward.....

…. and suddenly two strong arms were circling her waist, pulling her back across the rail, and they went sprawling. She gasped as the searing pain came flooding back, and began to struggle blindly. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Rose! Rose, no!" Dimly, she realized it was Mike holding her, and that he wouldn't let her go, no matter what. She stopped struggling and began to weep; wild, heaving, back-twisting sobs that tore Mike's and Donna's hearts to shreds.

Mike managed to struggle to his feet, picking Rose up as he did, and carried her back inside to the bed furthest from the balcony. He simply sat, cradling her close, while she wept on and on. Donna slid onto the bed beside them and added her arms to the nest, resting her cheek on Rose's shoulder, trying to return some of the comfort the other woman had given her that afternoon.

A river of tears later, the sobs slowly quieted to soft hiccups. Donna raised her head at last, peering into Rose's face, then she put her hand on Mike's shoulder. When he looked at her, she mouthed, "she's asleep". He nodded, and together they carefully slid Rose under the covers, still fully dressed – Donna slipping off her shoes.

Mike cupped his hand on Rose's cheek for a moment, then wearily got to his feet, grabbing Donna's hand and pulling her back out to the balcony, closing the door behind them. Then he pulled her into his arms, silently asking her for comfort. She hugged him tightly, and held him while his shoulders shook.

Finally, she felt him relax a bit, and she pulled back and searched his face. "Mike. What the _hell_ is going on?"

He shook his head. "I can tell you what, but I can't tell you why. I don't know. I don't understand one little bit. The Doctor's lost his bloody mind." He gave her a last squeeze, then dropped his arms and turned to lean on the railing, gripping it hard. "Something happened back there, between the end of his memories," he tapped his head, and she nodded that she understood, "and the start of mine, something that changed everything, that changed _him._ He turned his back on _everybody_ – there were a whole _bunch_ of us gathered to fight the Daleks, _all_ his companions from recent years – and he just... after it was done, and we won, he pushed them all away. He... _abandoned_ them, every one. Even you. Even me. Even _Rose_. She told me he wouldn't even _look_ at her. And it's _HER_. You were right. I _know _how he felt when he saw her again. It just doesn't make any sense." He shook his head again, bewildered. "It just doesn't make any bloody sense at all."

She thought for a bit, then touched his arm. "Mike, is it possible that somehow you... took it with you, when you were... created? That what's left is something else, something less than the Doctor he used to be?" A beat. "Huh. Are you sure _you're_ not the Doctor?"

He blew out his breath, and shook his head. Then he turned and took up both her hands, placing her palms flat on his chest. "What do you feel?"

"Your heart." He waited, then her eyes widened with the realization.

"Right. I only have one heart. I told you, I'm half human, half Time Lord. No, I'm not the Doctor. As for the rest.... I don't know. I just don't know."

"Mike. Maybe you need to go ask him. Have it out with him, once and for all. Do you know where he is?"

He nodded. They gazed at each other for another long moment, then she gave his chest a little push. "Then go. Find out. I'll watch over Rose."

***

A short time later, a taxi pulled up in front of the Tyler mansion, and Mike climbed out, asking the cabbie to wait. He walked up and rang the doorbell. After a minute, Jackie opened the door and looked thunderously at him, not saying a word.

"Whups. Jackie, I'm not the Doctor, I'm the other one. I've taken the name Mike, Mike Smith." He took a breath. "Is he here?"

"No. He's gone, and I don't know where he is. Good riddance."

"In the TARDIS?" he asked sharply.

"No, it's still here, down in the cellar. Why he put it there, I don't know. I wish it was gone, too."

"Mind if I take a look inside her?"

"Go ahead." She stepped back and let him in, then showed him down to the familiar blue box in the cellar. Mike couldn't get in for a moment, then pulled out his sonic screwdriver and buzzed the door open.

The TARDIS was powered down, only a few standby lights on the console. He looked around carefully, but – remembering how low the power supplies had been on the beach – didn't want to mess with anything. He went down the corridors and poked his head in several doors, till he was satisfied that the Doctor wasn't hiding somewhere on board.

Back up in the front hall, he hung on his heel for a moment. "So he's just... disappeared, then?"

"Yep." Jackie plainly had nothing else to say about the missing Time Lord, and just as plainly hoped she'd never see him again.

He took a deep breath, and decided to just let it all go. "So be it." He nodded at Jackie, "Thank you," and walked out the door, down to the waiting cab.

Pete was just coming down the stairs with a sleepy, pajama'd Tony. "Who was that?"

"The other one, the other Doctor. He said his name's now Mike Smith. He was looking for _him._ I told him he was gone, and he left." She smiled at Tony, taking him from his Dad and starting back up the stairs. "All ready for bed? Let's go find a story, then."

Pete walked over to the front door and opened it, just in time to catch the cab turning out of the driveway. Far too late to call him back. Whatever it was could wait. He wanted to give his little girl – she'd become that, in the last three years – and her Doctor all the time they needed to make things right, and the privacy of a hotel room, without anybody else barging in and messing it up, seemed like the best place to do that.

He closed the door, and went back upstairs to the nursery.

***

The next morning, Rose slowly drifted up from a very deep well, dimly realizing she'd slept – and slept very hard – for the first time in days. The events of the previous evening suddenly came flooding back, and she held her breath, waiting for the crushing pain to descend. It did, but somehow... it was just that slight bit less sharp. The attempted suicide, and the storm of tears afterward, had dulled the edges, just enough that she thought she might live through it.

She became aware of the other two talking softly across the room. Rubbing her eyes, she rolled over and began to stretch, then realized she still had her clothes on. She sat up, waved off their soft, tentative "Good morning?"s with a mumbled "shower", then stumbled in to the bathroom and turned on the taps.

An hour later, she came back out a somewhat-restored human being – Donna had slipped both clean clothes and a cup of tea in to her – and walked straight up to Mike, slipping her arms around his waist for a heartfelt hug. "Thank you," she murmured into his shoulder. "For everything." He hugged her back, holding her precious form for a few blissful seconds. When she let go and went to sit down, all three silently agreed the subject was closed.

"We've been thinking," began Mike, returning to the subject he and Donna had been quietly discussing. "A few days ago, before a certain redhead decided to go on the lam," he grinned at said redhead, "we were talking about finding a place for the winter down in France or Italy. I still like that idea. I think a change of scenery would do all of us a world of good." He'd told Donna, quietly, about the Doctor's disappearance, and they agreed to just move on without him. It didn't look like the situation would change.

Rose hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I was starting to look for a place on the internet, but I didn't get far."

Donna was thoughtful. "Seems like that's the wrong way to do it. We should just go down there and look around, find an area we like, and _then_ find a place to rent." Suddenly she grimaced and shook her head ruefully. "Listen to me. I've been knocking around with.. um, too long. Don't we need to be finding jobs or something?"

Rose grinned at her, not quite full strength yet. "Not for a while. You're looking at an heiress. I can't support us forever, but as long as we don't get extravagant, we can take it easy for a while before we need to start grubbing again. Don't worry about it." She sighed. "We all need a break."

Mike grinned. "All right, then. Shall we start heading south?"

Rose started to agree along with Donna, then suddenly shook her head. "Whoops! We're forgetting something! We've got to go back north, first, and get Dad's jeep!"

Mike looked horrified. "You're not going to make me get back on a plane, are you? That was the _worst_ experience of my life!" He shuddered.

The girls laughed at him. Rose answered, "There's lots of other ways to travel, silly, even without a... never mind. There's trains, ferries, zeppelins...."

"Ooh! Can we go by zeppelin? Pleeeease? That looks like _so_ much fun!" Donna was eager.

Rose laughed. "Why not?" And she reached for her laptop to arrange it.

A short time later, as they were gathering their things – amazing how three people can trash a hotel room in just one day – Rose paused in the act of taking her mobile off the charger and sighed. "I guess I should face the inevitable." She sat down, took a deep breath, and dialed the house. Jackie answered.

"Mum? It's me." Quickly, before Jackie could say anything, "Please, please just don't start. I'm OK. I'm sorry I haven't called, I just... couldn't."

"It's OK, darling, I understand."

Pete had picked up the extension. "Everything OK, sweetheart?" Trying to ask without asking.

"Yeah, I'm OK. Listen, I'm going to go out of town for a few days. It's kind of complicated. Mike – um, he's the _other one_, OK? Mike and Donna are here. They came down by train, and now we're going to go back up to get your jeep. Don't worry, nothing's wrong with it, they switched for another reason. We'll be back in a few days, and I'll explain everything then, OK?"

Jackie said OK, a bit confused. Pete, though, was thoroughly mystified. "But... what about the Doc-"

That was as far as he got. Rose broke in, "Please don't. Just don't go there. Please."

Jackie was glaring daggers at him. Sure his life was in danger if he continued, he simply said, "OK. We'll see you in a few days, then."

As they said goodbye and hung up, though, he grew more and more concerned. He'd been _certain_ that the next time he saw or spoke with Rose, she and the Doctor would have patched things up. He knew it from the way the Doctor had looked, had spoken the day before when he dropped him off at Rose's hotel.

Something was wrong. Something was horribly, terribly wrong.


	9. Up In the Clouds

**Up In the Clouds**

Donna had been right, traveling by zeppelin was a _blast_. They'd floated across the North Sea easy as a cloud, first to Copenhagen, then north to Oslo, arriving about eight hours after they lifted off from the George Harrison Memorial Zeppelin Terminal in north London. The hundred-odd passengers had leisurely milled between the various spacious, comfortable public rooms on the airship's two decks, whiling away the hours nibbling the light lunch in the dining room, sipping cocktails in the lounge, and watching the landscape melt away far below them through the tilted windows. Mike announced grandly that he'd travel by airship _any day_, shuddering again at the memory of the crowded, break-dancing tin can he'd endured the other direction. Turbulence simply was not a factor in zeppelin travel.

Landing in Oslo that evening, they decided naturally to spend the night in a hotel before continuing on to Bergen by train the next day. They took a taxi down to the city center, paying the friendly cabbie extra to give them an hour-long tour, before dropping them at a tourist hotel overlooking the Oslofjord waterside.

They took a pair of adjoining rooms, unlocking the door between them but leaving it closed for privacy as they changed clothes, then went downstairs for a delicious meal of Norwegian sausages and fish cakes in the attached restaurant. The trio dawdled over the cheese and wine 'afters' for over an hour, chatting, laughing, and enjoying the company, before retiring – the women taking one room and Mike the other.

Mike tossed and turned for a couple of hours, still not settled into any kind of regular sleep schedule. He needed much more sleep than he had before as a full Time Lord, but not, it seemed, as much as a "normal" human. Finally, he gave up, and put his clothes back on, thinking he'd go for a walk along the well-lit nighttime waterfront. He slipped out the door into the hall – and met Rose, just coming back in from her own restless wandering.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, smiling.

"No. I...." The mask she'd worn all day suddenly slipped, and she put a hand to her mouth, pressing her knuckles against her lips to keep from sobbing.

Mike reacted without thinking, reaching out and gathering her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist like she'd done that morning, burying her face in his shoulder, and simply held on for a few minutes, till she'd gotten herself under control again.

She leaned back, finally, and gave him a small, wistful smile. He cupped his hand on her cheek – and leaned forward without thinking and kissed her, tenderly.

She hesitated, just for a moment, and then leaned into the kiss, accepting. Her arms tightened around him, her hands moving up his spine (sending a shiver of excitement pinging up into his skull) and onto his shoulders. He deepened the kiss, then, his hand slipping softly down her neck and onto her back in a slow caress. For several long minutes they clung together in the hallway, tasting each other, as the slow tide of passion began rising.

When she moaned, low in her throat, he reached around and pushed his not-yet-latched door back open, drawing her in and closing it behind her, then pinning her against it. She brought her arms in for a brief moment and then wrapped them higher, around his neck, returning his renewed kisses with fire.

Mike's hands suddenly developed minds of their own, and they wanted skin – soft, warm, inviting skin – and they tore through leather and cloth at her waist to reach it. Her back arched of its own accord at his touch, recognizing how deeply she'd longed for the contact. His hands then slowly, caressingly slipped around to the front and up to find their twin goals, then his lips moved down to meet them. She moaned again, her head dropping back, and suddenly raised one leg and wrapped it around him. He reached back around and picked her up, turning with her and falling onto the bed, two steps away. They began tearing at each other's clothes, suddenly desperate to have nothing at all between them, and when there wasn't, she pulled him almost roughly on top of her, and he arched his back and plunged in, diving into paradise.

Some time later, in an act of sheer willpower, he ignored the name she moaned as she slipped over the edge, promising himself ruthlessly that before long, it would be his own name on her lips.

***

After that, Rose felt as though she were slowly waking up from a long, frozen nightmare. She smiled a little more often, a little more easily, and found herself watching Mike sometimes, trying to see who he really was in himself, rather than avoiding his too-familiar brown eyes. There were differences; she could see Donna's influence at times. Even the times (admittedly the vast majority) when he acted just like the Doctor, it didn't seem quite so searingly hard to take. They didn't repeat their lovemaking, content to let things proceed at a slower pace, the knowledge that it was possibly – probably – there in their future acting like the slightest trace of honey, making their present days just that bit sweeter.

They were careful never to make Donna feel like a third wheel, and she never did, though she was aware at some dim periphery of their impending couple-ness. For the moment, they were simply three good friends out on holiday, enjoying the sights and tastes of the journey back to London.

They elected to drive all the way back to England, stopping for a couple of days each in Copenhagen and Amsterdam (which was admittedly out of the way, but they all wanted to see it), and taking little side trips whenever something caught their fancy. At last, they rode the car ferry at Calais, just so they could see the famous white cliffs of Dover from the sea. "Funny how you can live all your life within easy reach of something spectacular, and yet never see it for yourself," commented Donna. They spent a last night in a small hotel in Dover, overlooking the port, before turning the jeep at last into the drive at the Tyler mansion one morning, some two weeks after they left.

The front door opened as they were piling out, and little Tony came barreling out to greet his sister, Jackie and then Pete trailing behind. _"Wose!!!"_ She scooped him up and twirled him around and around, laughing. He'd been almost the only truly bright spot in her life for the past three years, and it had been hard to think she was leaving him forever, each time she'd stepped into the field of the reality cannon.

After a few minutes of greetings and introductions, and _brief_ explanations, Pete turned to Mike, who he'd been surreptitiously watching. "Mike? Can I have a word with you in private?" He led the younger man over towards the side of the house, out of earshot of the ladies, who continued chattering and playing with Tony.

"I need to ask you a couple of extremely nosy questions, and I need you to tell me the honest truth. I promise, I do have good reason for asking, beyond just looking out for my little girl – and she is that, make no mistake."

"All right, ask."

"The other day, when you came here looking for the Doctor, how long had you been in Rose's company?"

Mike thought back. "Most of the day. She picked me up at the airport that morning."

"What about the Doctor? You didn't see him?"

"He wasn't here, remember?"

"No, I mean earlier."

Mike stared at him for a moment. "What are you getting at, Pete?"

Pete stared back, considering, then, "I dropped the Doctor off at Rose's hotel about three-thirty that afternoon, to talk to her, to try to make up with her. Are you saying he never made it?"

Mike shook his head, bewildered. "She wasn't there just then, she'd gone out to get Donna. I took a shower, then fell asleep." He stopped suddenly, the click of a door closing softly echoing in his memory. "Oh, shit," he said slowly, then looked back at Pete. "I think he may have seen me there." A beat. "Didn't he _ever_ come back?"

"Nope. He's still – missing." Pete took a deep breath. "OK, second question. Are you and Rose together?"

Mike tilted his head back and sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out as he turned and looked away. He stared at the bushes for a long moment, then turned back to Pete. "You have _no_ idea how badly I want to say yes. But you asked for the truth. And the truth is – no. Not yet. We could be, given time, but we aren't yet." He searched Pete's eyes. "You know where he is, don't you?"

"Yes, I know where he is. He's in jail."


	10. Just One Last Chance

**Just One Last Chance**

Prisoner number CAM-2012-4256: Smith, John, (no middle initial), sat on his bunk, back against the cold cinderblock wall, feet drawn up on the mattress, arms resting on his knees, staring at the wall opposite, unmoving.

Nothing unusual for 4256, the guards noted. That's all he did. All day. And all night. He never slept. He never spoke. When ordered out of his cell with the others, he mechanically did as he was told, with the minimum of movement, simply standing up and waiting. He walked with the others to the exercise yard and sank into the same stance against the wall at one side, halfway between door and fence, staring at nothing, then stood up again when the exercise period was over and walked back to his cell. At mealtimes, he mechanically went through the line, as ordered, took a half-dozen tiny bites of what they laughingly called food, then simply pushed his tray over to whoever was sitting across from him without looking.

His cellmate said it was like living with a ghost.

The toughs had tried to take him on and break him when he first arrived, same as they did to everybody. And others had tried to stare them down before, to no avail. But for some reason, when all he did was focus his eyes on them, unmoving, unblinking, their grins slowly seeped away, and they found they suddenly had no desire to lay a finger on him. They shrank back and let him pass, and never bothered him again. When asked, they simply shivered, and said they wanted no part of him.

Word of his offense had seeped through the community when he arrived, as it always did, and it seemed commonplace enough: drunk and disorderly. He'd apparently gone on a three-day bender, and when accosted late on the night of the third by a couple of punks who thought he looked like an easy mark, skinny as he was, he'd become enraged and busted up the place, causing a great deal of damage to both pub and punks. The magistrate had dropped the assault charges, given that the witnesses all agreed he'd been the victim of the attempted robbery, and had given him the usual choice of sixty days in jail or a thousand-pound fine – upped to five thousand for damages to the pub – and Smith had simply looked at him.

There was some idle discussion among both prisoners and guards about who he really was – _nobody_ was _really_ named John Smith, no middle name, and he hadn't had any ID on him when arrested, just a weird tube that looked like an attempt to build a realistic-looking "lightsaber". It was apparently broken, though, so they just tossed it into Property with his street clothes, to give back to him when he was released. The guesses about his identity proved equally fruitless, and they gave it up after a while, letting him sink into silent obscurity, everyone giving him his space automatically after a while.

So it caused a good bit of surprise that day just ten days into his sixty, when Guard Johnson came through to pluck him from his cell in the middle of the afternoon, saying "Come on, Smith. You're being released!"

Smith said nothing, just looked at him and shrugged, standing up and walking out of the opened cell door. Across the walkway, one of the other prisoners shouted "What's going on, there?"

"The guvnor's brother's come to bail him out!"

Strangely, that _did_ get a reaction from Smith, the first they'd ever seen. He stopped walking and stared hard at the guard, but still said nothing, as though the habit of silence were too strong to break. Johnson pushed at him with his billy stick, and Smith finally shrugged and began walking again, but it seemed as though he was suddenly carrying an invisible weight.

He went though outprocessing, never saying a word, putting his street clothes on and dropping his "lightsaber" into an inside pocket. He signed his name at the X, and was pointed out the door into the lobby.

Mike pushed off the wall where he'd been leaning and walked over to meet the Doctor, looking him over. They stared at each other for a few long moments, then Mike slowly shook his head. "Christ, what's happened to you?"

Something flickered in the back of the Doctor's eyes, but he didn't answer. Finally, Mike turned and gestured towards the door, and the Doctor walked out into the Cambridge sunshine.

Mike pointed to the old jeep sitting partway down the block, and they began walking towards it, but the Doctor simply came to a stop after a few steps, looking at Mike with the first expression he'd shown in weeks – searing pain.

"What do you want? Come to gloat?" His voice was cracked, unused.

Mike had turned back to him when he stopped. He shook his head, bewildered. "What?"

"You've won. You've got everything. What else do you want? My soul?"

Another head shake. "I haven't won _anything_. You don't know what you're talking about."

The Doctor snarled, "You won Rose. She's yours."

"No, she's _not._ She's still yours, you stupid son of a bitch."

"Don't give me that horseshit. I went into her room, and I saw you. I _saw_ you."

"Nothing happened! I'd just taken a shower, she wasn't even there!"

The Doctor shook his head, blindly, fists ballling. Suddenly, he whirled away from Mike and began walking the other way.

"---------!" Hearing Mike shout his true name, loud enough for a city block to hear, sent a shock wave through every nerve cell in the Doctor's body, bringing him to an abrupt, involuntary halt as sharp as though he'd run into a brick wall. He whirled around, gasping, eyes bulging, to see his twin stalking towards him, sheer insane fury twisting his face.

"Nothing. Happened." Mike hissed out between clenched teeth. "She's still yours, she always has been, and she always will be. You want proof?" He held up one hand, finger and thumb an inch apart. "She came _that close_ to committing _suicide_ that day, because of you. I came _that close_ to missing her as she jumped off a fucking twelfth-floor balcony!"

The Doctor literally couldn't breathe. He doubled over, gasping for air, his brain vainly struggling to comprehend Rose taking her own life. Because of him. He staggered sideways against the wall, staring blindly into space. Finally, after half a lifetime, he caught enough breath to try to stand up straight again, and he looked at Mike with pain-drenched eyes. "Is she all right?" he croaked. "Where is she?"

Mike closed his eyes against the pain in his own heart, then nodded. "She's at home." He shook his head. "God help me, I don't know why I'm doing this, but I'm taking you there, for one. Last. Chance." Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed the Doctor's lapels in both fists, pulling him up and slamming him back against the wall, his eyes again stabbing fury into the Doctor's own. "And you listen to me, you son of a bitch" he hissed. "If you _ever_ hurt her again, I swear on all that's holy, I will fucking _kill_ you, and you'll _never_ see another regeneration."

He stepped back, pulling his fists off the Doctor's lapels so that he wouldn't strangle him. "Now _get in the goddamned car."_

***

After an utterly silent hour and a half drive back from Cambridge, Mike pulled again into the driveway and parked the jeep. Getting out, he clapped a hand on the Doctor's shoulder and virtually frog-marched him into the house. Pete met them in the hall, simply saying, "She's in her room. Upstairs, right, last door on the left." He shook his head, sadly, at the Doctor's condition. Physically, he looked the same as he ever had, but his eyes... were simply haunted.

Upstairs, Mike practically shoved the Doctor into Rose's room. She was sitting on her bed, against the headboard, the same position she'd sat in at the hotel for four days. Donna was perched beside her; she looked at the Doctor apprehensively, while Rose just closed her eyes.

"Donna." Mike tipped his head to the door, asking her out. She gave the Doctor one more glance, then silently walked past him to the hallway.

Mike had gone from fury to weary despair during the drive, and now spoke tiredly, but still with some heat. "I'm guarding this door. I swear, I'll get a gun if I have to. But neither one of you is coming out until you fucking _talk_ to each other!" He turned and slammed the door behind him, and then stepped across the hall to lean heavily against the wall opposite. Donna stepped back and leaned beside him, taking his hand, not speaking. Just waiting.

After about ten minutes, it was obvious that the door guard was no longer necessary. Donna squeezed his hand. "Let's get out of here, mate."

"Yeah." Moving away from Rose's door may have been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he'd already sealed his fate by bringing her love back to her side. "Let's get out of here."

They walked back downstairs together and towards the front door. Pete was still there. He guessed at the situation from their expressions, along with Mike's admission that morning, and just gave him a look of sincere sympathy. "Take the jeep. It's yours."

All their stuff was still in it from that morning, it had never been unpacked. Mike and Donna got in, started it up again, and started driving south. They didn't stop driving for days.


	11. Walk the World Over

**Author's Note: **my apologies for the delay; this chapter was giving me trouble - it wouldn't come into focus!

Emziixxx, carlvs, and Kelkat9, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews - they are as springs in the desert to a thirsty author!

Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, but Rose's song herein belongs to me.

.

* * *

**Walk the World Over**

Rose squeezed her eyes tight and pulled her knees close over her aching heart as Mike slammed out her bedroom, leaving the Doctor behind. _Why is Mike doing this to me? I don't need to _hear_ him say he doesn't want me again._ She couldn't look at the Doctor, couldn't bear to see the cold disdain she knew would be in his eyes.

The Doctor's hearts and lungs were surrounded by glass shards. A breath too deep, a heartbeat too strong – or one cold word or look from Rose would slice them to shreds. Even another minute of this awful, silent separation would do the same. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside the bed. Shaking, he reached for her hand as if for the most precious stone in the universe, but couldn't make himself touch it, and his hand fell instead to softly touch her foot like a worshiper touching the foot of the Buddha.

"Rose?" he whispered brokenly. No response. He tried again, dying inside. "Rose?"

His tone finally sunk through her misery and pulled her eyes open. At her look, as filled with pain as his own hearts, he broke completely.

"Please forgive me. I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive me." His face twisted with agony, as he sobbed the words out over and over.

Comprehension slowly dawned. _He does want me. He does. I haven't lost him._ She reached down for his hand and he took hers, pulling it to his forehead like a supplicant. She suddenly uncurled and reached for him with both arms, unconsciously sliding over the edge of the bed to kneel beside him. In a breath, a heartbeat, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and was pressing her body close to his, as close as she could get without crawling inside his skin, and his trembling arms were pulling her in even closer, holding her tight, his only hope of sanity or salvation.

When the first mutual storm of tears had slowed, she pulled back and searched his eyes. "I thought.... I thought you didn't want me any more."

He leaned his forehead on hers. "Oh, Rose. I do want you. _I love you._ I love you so much. I need you with me, always. And I want you. I want you in every sense of the word." And he tilted his head and kissed her, as if it were a cherished dream come true. Which it was.

Kissing the Doctor was NOT like kissing Mike, she realized dimly in some back alley of her mind. She didn't care to catalog the differences, not then, not ever; but there was no doubt in her mind who was on the other side of that embrace. She returned the kiss with equal tenderness, deepening to equal passion. At some point, they managed to move up onto the bed, and proceeded to show each other exactly how they truly felt.

***

A long time later, lying side by side, drinking in each other's eyes as though they'd never get enough, she finally got the courage to ask, simply, "Why? What happened? What made you change?"

She saw the shutters start to descend in his eyes, and cried, "Please, please tell me. Don't shut me out again." She pulled her hand from his chest, where she'd been lightly playing with his collarbone, and put her palm along his cheek. He caught it with his own hand and kissed her palm, then replaced it on his chest. (He'd been rather enjoying that collarbone caress.) "I want to tell you. I _need_ to tell you. Just give me a bit to find the words."

Slowly, haltingly, he reminded her about the chain of events on the Crucible, and told her how Davros' words, and the memories they had conjured up: the truth of himself and his influence on those he loved the most, had burned him to the bone. How so many people had sacrificed their lives, or their souls, for him. And how he couldn't bear, afterward, to see any of those with him then come so close to dying or using weapons again, even her, _especially_ her. And so he had tried so hard to settle them into good, happy lives, so he could run far, far away, removing his evil influence from his beloved family.

At last, the telling was done. She began to shake her head. "No. Doctor, you're wrong. You're so wrong."

"I know. I was wrong to try to arrange all your lives like that–"

She stopped him with a kiss. "No, that's not what I mean. You're wrong about your influence, what you do to people. Doctor, my love, you only bring out the _best_ in everyone. You're _not_ evil. How could you think that?"

He stared at her. "The weapons. The deaths. How could it be anything else?"

"Oh, and _you_ did all that? Were _you_ the one they were using those weapons on? Were they defending themselves or others from _you?_ Did they sacrifice themselves to stop _you_ from doing something evil?"

"No, but..."

"No buts. Stop it. If those sacrifices hadn't been made, if the weapons hadn't been used, greater evil would have been done – _much_ greater evil, to many thousands or millions of people, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it?" Slowly, he nodded. "Then the sacrifices weren't in vain. They were noble, and they should be honored. It doesn't make them less painful, I know. But it means _you aren't evil._"

He stared at her, speechless. Wanting so much to believe her, to accept the absolution she offered. Finally, he closed his eyes, and moved to lay his head on her chest, as the hot tears came at last, washing his soul clean of the stain he'd carried so long and so heavily.

***

They stayed in her room for three days straight, talking, making love, eating off trays brought up by the Tyler's cook, sleeping a few short hours at a time to wake up and do it all again.

The Doctor's floodgates had opened, and he poured his soul out to Rose, telling her all the deep secrets of his past, the dizzying joys and devastating heartbreaks that had made him who he was. Finally, haltingly, choking on the images, he told her of the last Time War, and his horrific part in the end; forced beyond endurance to place his entire planet, the entire sector, under a time lock to prevent the Council from enacting their unthinkable vengeance: the end of time itself.

She listened, and accepted the horror, giving him the only absolution she could: that of her loving arms.

Wonderingly, he found it was enough.

***

In the wee hours of the second night, the Doctor was holding Rose close, spoon fashion, while she slept, dozing lightly himself. Suddenly, he came alert, feeling rather than hearing movement in the room. Peeking through half-opened eyes, he noticed the door to the hall was ajar. He raised his head, then, scanning the room for trouble, and came face-to-face with a pair of huge brown eyes, the same level as his own, inches from the bed.

"Rose," he whispered. No response. He shook her shoulder lightly, and tried again, a bit louder. "Rose. There's a midget in your room."

"Wha..?" Struggling to open her sleep-cemented eyes, Rose focused on the "midget". "Tony!" She started to toss back the covers, then remembered she'd nothing on. "What's the matter, sweetie? Another bad dream?" The toddler nodded, thumb occupying his mouth, not taking his eyes off the Doctor.

"Rose?" She looked over her shoulder, and smiled at his confusion.

"Tony. My baby brother. Remember, when you broke through with your hologram after the Wall, I told you Mum was pregnant?"

He refocused on her, realization dawning. "Oh! I'd _completely_ forgotten about that." He turned back to the boy with a smile, then. "Hello, Tony."

Rose raised the edge of the blanket, careful to keep a fold against her body, inviting her brother in. He didn't budge, still staring at the Doctor. "It's OK, this is -"

"Mike," Tony pronounced past his thumb.

"No, this is Mike's brother. His twin brother. They look exactly alike, though, don't they? But this is the Doc -"

"John," The Doctor said over her. He didn't know where that impulse to humanize himself came from, but something about it being Rose's obviously-beloved baby brother...

She glanced at him, surprised, then smiled back at Tony. "John. It's OK. Come on." Tony considered a moment longer, then decided the strange man in his sister's bed was OK, and climbed in, snuggling close.

"Song or story?" she asked him.

"Wok wud," came the reply – at least that's what the Doctor thought he heard.

Rose turned her face to the headboard, blushing.

"Wok wud!" he insisted.

She turned back, sighing and laughing softly at the same time. "All right, OK! Close your eyes...." He did, and she began softly singing a lyrical highland tune – the Doctor could almost hear the bagpipes in the distance.

_I'll walk the world over, searching for you  
No border can stop me, I'll simply walk through  
My love is a compass, it guides me to you  
I'll walk the world over, till I find you._

Hearing these words from deep inside her heart, the Doctor buried his face in her hair, breathing in her precious scent and holding her tighter while she went on.

_I'll sail cross the oceans, searching for you  
My faith is a strong ship, my faith in you  
My love is a compass, it guides me to you  
I'll sail cross the oceans, till I find you._

_I'll cross o'er the desert, searching for you  
No heat can deter me, no sand in my shoe  
My love is a compass, it guides me to you  
I'll cross o'er the desert, till I find you._

_I'll climb up the mountain, searching for you  
I'll soar past the eagles, up to the blue  
My love is a compass, it guides me to you  
I'll climb up the mountain, till I find you._

Her voice trailed softly away to silence. Tony was sound asleep. She slipped out of bed past him, put on a robe, and carried him back to his room, then returned to the Doctor's waiting arms.


	12. Feels Like the First Time

**Feels Like the First Time**

It's amazing how many miles you can drive in three months, even on a relatively small continent like Europe.

Mike and Donna had taken the car train back through the Chunnel to Calais that same evening, and Mike drove on through the night, only stopping for petrol and snacks, just wanting to put as many miles between himself and his heartbreak as he could. He streaked through Paris in the wee hours of the morning, Donna sleeping in the seat beside him, her head on his lap. They found themselves pulling into Toulouse midmorning, and Mike realized he couldn't go any further; he stopped at another petrol station and stretched out in the back seat, telling Donna to follow her fancy.

She bought some maps in the station, and studied them. They had three choices from there: east towards Marseille and Italy, south to Barcelona and the Mediterranean coast of Spain, or west to Bayonne and the Atlantic. She mentally flipped a coin and came up west, smiling at the idea of touring all around the coast of Europe.

When Mike awoke a few hours later, they were just crossing the border into northern Spain. She told him her idea, and he replied, "What the hell, why not? It's as good as any other plan." While that was perhaps not the enthusiastic endorsement she might have hoped for, at least he hadn't vetoed it. So they continued on.

Mike found the simple actions of driving along the coastline strangely soothing, following the curves through town after town, watching the Atlantic rollers come in. They stopped that evening in a little town beyond Bilbao and found a restaurant overlooking the sea. Mike asked the waiter for a bottle of local vino, and found it went down surprisingly well with the seafood. They took another bottle with them out onto the strand to watch the last of the sunset, and then found a small guesthouse nearby for the night.

So, they settled into a pattern: driving all day, stopping just before sunset for dinner and wine, exploring whatever town they found themselves in on foot before finding a guesthouse or small hotel. They quickly discovered that most Spanish towns still had open-air markets, so they stopped every day when they spied the awnings and picked up local fruits, cheeses, sausages, wine, and the long loaves of delicious just-baked bread, taking it with them till they found a spot on a cliff for a picnic lunch.

On they went, winding around the Atlantic coast, down through Portugal, stopping an extra day in Lisbon to see the sights, then on around to Gibraltar and the start of Islamic Spain. The Reconquista had never been completed in this universe, leaving vast swaths of southern Spain in moderate Islamic hands through the centuries, making it a major stabilizing influence against modern Middle Eastern extremists. The current worldwide political climate and history was therefore much different from their own original universe, and the two travelers began spending time exploring those differences.

One thing hadn't changed, though: the whole of well-heeled northern Europe still descended upon the Costa del Sol every winter, turning the coastline from Gibraltar to Almeria into a never-ending series of tiny cultural enclaves, where you could spend an entire day hearing nothing but German, or Danish, or English, rather than Spanish or the local Arabic-Spanish blend.

The travelers therefore detoured off the beach at that point, backtracking to Sevilla before continuing on to Cordoba and Granada, spending several days soaking up the Moorish architecture and eating couscous and dates.

It was about that time that Mike realized he could stand to think of Rose without wanting to either punch something or jump in front of a speeding truck, and he began to think he might be able to build some kind of life without her, after all. As she had done on their trip north, he began to smile and laugh more, and pay more attention to his companion and best friend. He had always been manic, but it had less of an edge to it.

So they continued their Grand Tour, stopping in Barcelona, where the dogs had noses, and driving back at last into France. The end of October found them in Rome, where they called a temporary halt to the driving and spent two weeks exploring the eternal city from a tiny room near the Vatican.

"What shall we do today?" asked Donna one morning. They were sitting side-by-side on her tiny bed, backs to the wall. Mike's legs were stretched across the gap and resting on his bed opposite – the room really was _tiny –_ while hers were tucked beneath her, surrounded by maps and tourist pamphlets and guidebooks.

"I think we should get married," came the reply.

Laughter spilled out of her and spread across the map she was studying. "Yeah, right. I don't think we can quite fit that into our itinerary today, though." She turned to share the laugh with her friend, and suddenly realized – he wasn't laughing.

She spluttered. "Married! You're bonkers! Stark raving mental, you are! Come on, spaceman!"

"Why not?"

Dumbfounded. "Because we're _friends_, lunatic!"

"Yep. Best friends. I happen to think that's the very best basis for a good marriage. I thought we even agreed on that the other day...."

"I... yeah... but... but there's _more_ to it than just that. You've got to be _more_ than just friends. I mean, for heaven's sake, you've never even _kissed_ me..."

"You're right. Well, that's something that should be rectified. Right now." And with that, he swooped in. If she was expecting a chaste peck, she was quickly proven wrong. He twisted around, put both arms around her, and pulled her into a passionate snog.

She inhaled sharply through her nose – her mouth being otherwise occupied – and squeaked in alarm, automatically bringing both hands up and grabbing his shirt front in tight fists.

Mike slowed his kiss to a crawl – though he didn't stop it – and eased his body back just a fraction of an inch, doing a very slow mental count to ten. _Ball's in your court._

She didn't push him away.

Slowly, gradually, he started his motor up again, and she began to respond, closing her eyes and tentatively kissing him back. When her hands relaxed out of fists, her palms going flat against his chest again, he brought her closer, easing her into his arms, his world.

He made love to her slowly, taking his time, suspecting he was actually her first. He remembered vividly – even if she didn't – the moment on the TARDIS when he realized that all her redheaded chutzpah was merely a mask, hiding the fact that she'd never once in her life felt truly loved by anyone other than her granddad.

He was on a mission to change that.

She inadvertently confirmed it, just before the final act, when she looked up at him through tear-stained lashes. "I thought you didn't want me. You said–"

He silenced her with a kiss. "I was a different man back then. Literally," he murmured against her mouth.

"Oh, Michael!" she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut against stinging, joyful tears.

His heart sang.


	13. Family

**Family**

A few weeks later, a brilliant late November afternoon found Mike and Donna relaxing in a pair of chaise lounges drawn close together outside their resort bungalow perched on a mountainside overlooking the Greek island city of Corfu. They'd cut across to the east coast of Italy after Rome, agreeing to skip Naples nestled under the skirts of Vesuvius – been there, destroyed that – and on impulse took the ferry from Brindisi across to Corfu. Since the island was in the brief off-season between summer/fall and winter tourist hordes, they had the resort mostly to themselves, and took advantage of it; soaking up the Greek sunshine and leisurely exploring mountain, town, and beach.

Without taking his eyes off the taxi slowly winding its way up the hillside, Mike said, amused, "You're doing it again."

Donna left off surreptitiously eyeing her left hand, and simply held it out at arms length in front of her, turning it this way and that to catch the brilliant sparkles. She sighed exaggeratedly. "Mrs Smith. It's got such a nice sound to it."

"I thought you were going to say 'a nice _ring_ to it'."

"Yeah, but I hate feeding you such an obvious pun."

He laughed, and captured her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss, then holding it gently in his lap. The taxi paused, then turned into their resort; another off-season traveler taking advantage.

It had taken him another three weeks to convince her to marry him, but she'd finally succumbed, and they'd found a justice of the peace or local equivalent down the hill in Corfu a few days before. When Dimitrius and Serafima – the resort's flamboyantly friendly owners – found out, they threw together a raucous spur-of-the-moment celebration, pulling in all the other guests and a good hundred or so of their own friends to toast the new couple far into the night, singing and dancing. Donna reflected that the impulsive, impromptu nature of the gathering exactly fit the marriage itself, and decided it was a good omen for the uncertain future. Whatever that future held, the two of them would find the way to make the most of it, and celebrate life at every turn. As the Doctor always had.

As always, whenever the name of the missing original version of her best friend crossed her mind, she took a moment to send a silent, formless plea for him skyward, hoping that he was all right, that Rose had been able to heal him – and he her – of whatever evil had happened to him. She'd never forget the shattered, haunted look on his face when Mike had brought him into the mansion that last day. She didn't love him any less for the new, stronger – and sexual – love she felt for this other version of him beside her: her husband.

Thoughts of the future had also been on said husband's mind. "Donna," he began, "I think it's time we faced facts. It doesn't look like we're going to be getting back to our own world." She blinked against sudden tears, and he squeezed her hand, then went on; mentally turning her to face forward. "I think we need to start thinking about building our life in this one. A real life, a good one, one we can look back on and be proud of."

She'd been thinking along the same lines, actually. As wonderful as this life was, they couldn't keep it up indefinitely. They'd stopped using Rose's credit card for most things, hitting cash machines as needed, but she was still human enough, and moral enough, that the repeated theft was really beginning to bother her.

"Yeah. You're right. I wish... but no. Face facts." She took a deep breath and blew it out, blowing away the wish as well. "So. I guess the first question is _where_ we want to live?"

"Dunno if it's the first, but it's definitely in the top three. I'm more concerned with _how_, though. As in, I need to face up to human reality and get a job. A career. And I have absolutely no idea where to begin or what to think about."

"Well, let's not rush into things. I think we can manage to find our way. I still have skills – fastest typist in Chiswick, remember? I could get a job almost anywhere there's a need for an English-speaking secretary – even here, plenty of hotel clerks and offices have English speakers. Then you could look around and take your time finding your calling."

He nodded slowly. "OK. Then we are back to where. Do you want to stay here? Move on somewhere new? Go back to someplace we visited this fall? Hell, the world's wide open. We could go to Australia, or New Zealand – or Canada or the US. What's your pleasure, madam?"

"Or you could come back to England," said a familiar female voice from behind them. Very familiar. They stared at each other.

"Or you _might_ even be able to get back home." said an even more familiar male voice. This time, they both whirled around, gaping.

Rose and the Doctor were standing behind the chest-high garden wall behind them, smiling broadly.

_Very_ broadly.

Mike leapt to his feet. "You found a way? To the other universe?" Donna held her breath.

The Doctor held up his hand, cautioning. "_Maybe._ It's a _very_ slim chance, that requires split-second timing, and a _hell_ of a lot of luck."

"Oh, we'll take the chance! How?"

The Doctor launched into an explanation that flew right over both women's heads from the first word, involving exotic names of circuits and energy types, and orbits and geometric planes and something called the Cthlariel Cycle –

"_Cthlariel!!" _exclaimed Mike. He shook his head. "You'd have to be at exactly the right point – and that only repeats once every..."

"Five hundred and eighty-six years," confirmed the Doctor. "And we can't jump ahead to it, because that would drain every bit of power left from the TARDIS – we wouldn't be able to get through then. We have to wait for it to come around."

Donna gasped. "And how long....?" asked Mike.

The Doctor smiled. "Five years."

"Five?!" Mike was positively manic. "I can do five years." He turned to Donna, grinning hugely. "Can you do five years?"

"I can do five years!" she said quickly, aware at one level of the silliness of it, but over that, the thought kept repeating: _I'm going home. I'm going home._

They turned back to the other couple, smiling hugely. Rose and the Doctor returned the smile, then they glanced at each other. A small signal passed, and their smiles faded. She squeezed his hand and then let go, and he stepped around through the gate beside them, walking slowly up to Mike.

"First, I have something to say. I owe both of you, each of you, a huge apology, for what I did back then, for how I was acting." The Doctor took a deep breath, and continued. "I was very wrong, I made several huge mistakes, and I'm sorry." He looked from Mike to Donna, including both of them in his apology.

Both taken aback, Mike reacted first. "I'd settle for an explanation," he said quietly. "What happened on the Crucible?"

The Doctor dropped his gaze to the ground, taking another deep breath, and then nodded. "I had a mirror held up to me – "

"A _distorted_ mirror," Rose corrected him.

He flashed her a quick, rueful smile. "My angel." He turned back to the others. "Distorted or not, it was a mirror, and it showed me all the ugliest parts of myself, of my influence on others, on the people I love. And I reacted very, very badly. I tried to run away. I thought I was doing the right thing, by putting each of you someplace where I thought you could have a normal, happy life, so I could run away with a clearer conscience. But I was wrong, at every step. I shouldn't have tried to manage your lives. I'm sorry."

Mike gazed at him, considering. Donna didn't need to. She slipped off her chair and came around to the Doctor, pulling him around and into her arms for a huge hug for her old best friend. She clung to him for a minute, fighting tears of joy, then told him, "I forgive you."

He squeezed her hard, then they each drew back to smile at each other. Then the Doctor looked past her to Mike, surprised, and Donna stepped back and looked around.

Mike was holding out his hand, waiting. "We're family. As oddly as it happened, we're the only real family we've ever had."

The Doctor started to reach for his hand, then stopped and shook his head. "Not yet. There's one more thing." A beat. "Rose?"

Mike and Donna turned to look at her, mystified. She was still on the other side of the wall. She took her own deep breath, and came around through the gate.

She was visibly pregnant.

Mike was utterly gobsmacked. His knees buckled, and he staggered against his chaise and sat heavily on the ground. He knew without a doubt whose baby that was. Time Lords and humans were two different species; for all their astounding sexual compatibility, inter-breeding was impossible.

He knew he was part human, but it had never occurred to him that _that_ part was included.

He gaped at her for several long minutes, head spinning, trying vainly to process the information and the implications. Finally, the Doctor moved partly in front of him, and he glanced involuntarily up at his twin, then stopped, staring again.

The Doctor was holding out his own hand, face sincere. "You gave her the one thing I can't, and I can only be grateful. I would never hold it against you, or try to keep you out of the child's life. Like you said: we're family."

Mike gulped. Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been this. He looked from the Doctor to Rose, who smiled at him. She stepped over beside the Doctor, taking his arm, signaling clearly whose woman she was, and then said to Mike, softly, simply, "Thank you."

He shook his head. He'd have to process all this later. He looked back up at the Doctor, then slowly reached up to take his hand, letting his twin pull him back to his feet. They stood there, looking at each other for a minute, then simply shook their still-clasped hands, not quite ready for anything more demonstrative yet.

Suddenly Mike remembered his wife, and turned to look at her. Donna had backed away several steps, eyes wide, hands over her mouth, shocked. He stepped quickly over to her and pulled her into his arms, turning her away from the others. "Donna, I...." Not knowing what to say, he simply stopped.

She looked up at him. Pulling her hands just far enough away to speak, she whispered brokenly, "I didn't think you could...."

"Neither did I. I had no idea." He put his hands on either side of her face, and touched his forehead to hers, eyes full of wonder and question. "Do you want kids?"

Tears starting, she breathed, "Oh, yes!"

He grinned hugely. "So do I." And they threw their arms around each other and held on, joyously.

The Doctor grinned. He stepped over to Mike's abandoned chaise, pulled it a decorous few inches further from the other, and sat down, gently pulling Rose into his lap. She turned sideways and leaned against him, nibbling on his collarbone through his open shirt collar. "That's mine, you know," she whispered to him.

"Baby, every inch of me is yours," he whispered back.

A few seconds later, Mike and Donna sat on the other chaise, mirroring them. Rose sat up and reached for Donna's left hand. "Let me see!"

Donna laughed and stretched out her rings, then caught sight of the rings on Rose's hand. She snatched it and held it up for Mike to see, setting off mutual feminine peals of laughter. "Congratulations," Mike told his twin sincerely. "You, too," came the reply.

Donna held up her hand in front of her, rings out, mock-bragging. "Mine's bigger!"

Rose mirrored her. "Mine has rubies!" And they both pealed again, then settled back against their mates.

Mike turned to Rose. "How'd you find us?"

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "How'd you pay for this place?"

Duh. "The credit card!"

"Oh, look at that, he's not as dumb as he looks!" She teased him.

Donna put in, "Yes, he is. I figured that out months ago!"

Mike turned to the Doctor, wounded. "Tell me again why we put up with this?"

The Doctor growled. "Beats the hell out of me." Then, when Rose arched a severe eyebrow on him, "Oops."

Donna crowed. "Did I just see the Doctor _tamed?"_

Mike winked at Rose. "Oh, darling, he was do-mes-ticated" enunciating the word exaggeratedly "five years ago; he just never wanted to admit it."

The Doctor turned to Mike as if offended. He pointed at his own head, then Mike's. "That works both ways, you know."

Mike just laughed, then a second later the Doctor joined in, then the women. And with that, the worst was over. They were together again. Family.

A while later, Donna turned to Rose. "When you said come back to England, did you mean to your family's mansion?"

Before she could reply, the Doctor said, quite firmly, "_No."_

Mike guessed it first. "Jackie?"

He nodded. "She'll never forgive me. Literally. She's sworn never to see or speak to me again, and so far, she hasn't."

Rose put in, "We haven't been staying there ourselves. I go visit by myself sometimes. We rented a small place for a while, but.... Actually, that's the main reason we're here now. We found a place we'd like to buy, but it's huge. A big old farmhouse in the country, north of London. Plenty big enough for all of us. We want you guys to come back and live there with us. We're family."

Mike and Donna shared a look. Donna asked, "But if we're going back to the other universe...."

The Doctor held up his hand, as he'd done before. "_Maybe._ I can't stress that enough. It's only a very slim chance that it will work at all. In the meantime, I really think we should... what was that phrase, Rose?"

"Hope for the best, plan for the worst."

"Exactly. We should do as you two were talking about when we walked up. Start building a life here, just in case."

Mike and Donna shared another look, wordlessly communicating. Mike turned back, "Doctor – "

"John," he corrected his twin, then shrugged. "It seems appropriate, under the circumstances. John Smith. The combined Smith family." He grinned over at Donna.

Donna grinned back, happy, then turned back to Rose again. "A big old farmhouse, eh?"

"Yeah. With two master suites, at either end of the house. Plenty of privacy when we want it. And several of the original farm acres still attached. Quiet, country living. I can afford to buy it outright with my inheritance, and then we'd only have to worry about eating money. And that's no problem at all." She smiled, and held out her hand to the other two. "It's perfect for raising a family. Or two."

They smiled back, and both of them reached to take her hand, the Doctor adding his own to the clasp. "Family."


	14. Homecoming

_**A/N:** Oh, don't bother re-reading this, for heaven's sake. I'm only changing one word - changing the name of Rose's son from Jamie to Davey, as I had originally intended. Don't know where my mind was when I wrote that._

* * *

**Homecoming**

"Pete's here!"

"Oh, thank _goodness!_ This is cutting it just too close!"

"Granddad!"

"Hey, Tiger!" Pete scooped up four-year-old Davey and tossed him up, catching him again and swinging him around before holding him close. "Oh, I'm going to miss you!" He shook himself before he could get maudlin, and set the boy down. He picked up the large briefcase he'd set on the ground and carried it over to Rose. "Here you go, sweetheart; I finally managed to get the rest of it."

She ignored the case, and instead threw her arms around her father. "I knew you'd come through for us; you always do." Tears threatening, she hugged him even tighter, hanging on for a few precious, precious seconds.

John walked over then and took the case from Pete so he could hug her back with both arms, and carried it into the TARDIS, stashing it under the console floor with the other two. The three of them were packed with jewelry, the total value equaling the value of their farmhouse. Pete was officially purchasing it from the foursome, paying them in the only manner they could think of that would also hold value in the other universe, as stocks, bonds, bank cheques, even cash (as the bills themselves were markedly different) would all be only so much paper. But the jewelry, when sold, would give them all a good start on their new life.

"Can you forgive me, sweetheart?" Pete asked.

"For what?"

"For the half of me that hopes that tomorrow I get to start selling that jewelry off again."

She gave a strange half-laugh, half-sob. "Of course I can." She leaned back, then, to look up at him. "Dad.... " So much to say. And in the end, no need. It was all summed up in that one name.

"I know." One final squeeze, and then she had to let go and scurry about, gathering the final bits and pieces, making sure that all the kids were safely on board the TARDIS.

They'd had a time getting the blue box out of the Tyler basement, since they couldn't _whoosh_ it out – the storm doors just weren't quite big enough, and the stairs at a bad angle. In the end, they'd had to bring in some workmen to widen the entryway and rebuild the doors after. Jackie had obstinately threatened to stop the whole thing, banning _him_ (she refused to even say "the Doctor", let alone refer to him by his chosen human name of John) from her home completely. Pete had finally solved that problem by the simple expedient of whisking his wife and son away to Switzerland for two weeks. So the TARDIS was carefully removed, and trucked up to the farmhouse without a hitch.

Rose had said her goodbyes to her Mum and brother the day before, a scene she never wanted to repeat, and refused to describe to the others. John had simply held her while she cried for hours that night, but didn't try to dissuade her from her course. They'd talked about it for months, years; they were _all_ going back, and that was that.

He'd done what he could, though. He'd taken the piece of TARDIS coral he'd carefully teased off to give to his twin that day on the beach and grown it into a "radio", which could send and receive signals from the TARDIS itself. He wasn't certain it would work across dimensions, but he'd done the best he could. They'd have to test it once they made the jump. Even if all they got were emails, that would be so much more than what he'd had before, when Rose was first trapped here. (He'd made absolutely certain, though, that the coral bit had stopped growing, and would never become a full TARDIS. The last thing he wanted to do was leave an organic time machine lying around for centuries.)

Pete managed to snag everybody one last time as they walked back and forth, saying goodbye to all, including the redheaded twins Loren and Lyra, and planting a smooch on baby Lucy's head – and then, one for her Mum Donna, too, of course. He didn't smooch the men, though a good hard hug was certainly in order.

Finally, finally, the moment arrived, after five long years of planning and waiting and tinkering and anticipation, when the TARDIS circuits and all the stars and planets and energy fields in both universes were aligned perfectly. Every child was strapped into a seat in a new, padded playroom in the TARDIS, and their four parents stood around the console, holding their breath and each other's hands.

Pete stood back, by the car, tears already starting. For a long, long moment, nothing happened, and he flashed back to the beach at Bad Wolf Bay, waiting with Jackie for the TARDIS to disappear. That time, it hadn't.

This time, it did.

As John and Mike carefully fed the last bits of reserve power to the time rotor, the living TARDIS reached out through the crack that opened for a nanosecond along the fault lines in the universes created by the Cthlariel Cycle, back to her home universe, and latched on to the base harmonic frequency there. Then, with an audible sigh, she _whooshed_ herself back home.

Pete stood, staring at the now-empty spot through his tears, for a very, very long time. Then he wiped his face, got in his car, and headed home to his wife and son.

It had been a very long, and very interesting, three months since the incredible events of the past July, when the sun and moon had been replaced in the sky with twenty-six planets for a full day. Of course, many people had simply decided it was a case of universal mass hysteria, that nothing had _really_ happened. Others decided to believe this or that part of it, and dismiss the rest. The most often ignored piece was that the planet had actually been moved to a completely different part of the galaxy, then returned to its orbit around Sol – that was simply too much for any sane, rational person to take.

At the other extreme, religious mania had risen to an all-time peak in most parts of the world, notably the USA, where Christian evangelicals and other end-timers were moving _en masse_ to swell militia compounds far past capacity, causing a massive headache for law enforcement from local cops to the FBI. The President had issued emergency orders to bring the entire armed forces back from the Middle East to deal with the crisis, which threatened to blow up into another Civil War. The rest of the world watched just a bit smugly before returning to their own problems.

One problem that was so far up in the air as to be not even worth talking about was Global Climate Change. It done changed, all right, spectacularly. Climate scientists all over the world kept saying it would take years for new stable weather patterns to emerge; till then, all anyone could do was just take one day at a time. At least they were finally able to determine that the Earth had been returned to the same place in its orbit, the same angle to the orbital plane (and right side up), and only 7.56 hours ahead of where it should have been in its rotation. It took three weeks for everybody to get their clocks back in synch worldwide.

Wilf Mott wished, as he did every day approximately once every five minutes or so, that the Doctor had returned immediately after the crisis was past, to set the record straight, to help with the cleanup, and most importantly, to bring his granddaughter back home. The longer it took, the more worried he got. Yes, the Earth was fine and would eventually recover, but what had happened to Donna? To the Doctor? To that lovely blonde, Rose, who had stayed with them for a short time during the crisis, before taking off to look for the other two? He hadn't even been able to get in touch with the others he'd seen on the computer that night, since he'd never caught their names, other than Harriet Jones, and she'd been found dead in her home a day or so later. (He was sorry about that; he really _had_ voted for her. She was a good woman, doing the right thing right up to the end.)

He was just finishing up breakfast one Tuesday morning, preparing to settle down for his usual morning routine of keeping one eye on CNN while searching on the internet for any sign of the Doctor. Sylvia was giving him her usual lecture about not straining his eyes or hurting his back in that awful computer chair as she prepared to leave for work. He ignored her, as he always did; he knew she was simply masking her own anxiety about her missing daughter.

Suddenly, he thought he heard something. He barked at Sylvia to be quiet, and hit the TV mute button. And there it came again, the one sound he most wanted to hear in all the world: _whoosh, whoosh, whoosh._

He flew to the door and yanked it open, Sylvia, bewildered, just behind him. There, just swimming into view across the street, was that beautiful, wonderful, fantastic, brilliant blue police call box.

The door opened, and his granddaughter came running out, stumbling to a stop with her hands over her mouth, staring at her family as though she hadn't seen them in years. Wilf and Sylvia started to run to her, but then stopped again, staring as not one, but TWO Doctors came out behind her. And _several_ children. And Rose. All the grownups were grinning ear to ear.

One of the Doctors, carrying a baby, leaned over and whispered something in Donna's ear. She nodded, and then simply ran to her Mum and Granddad, arms outstretched.

Explanations could wait.


End file.
